Page 23 of Tides of Change
I leaned forward and narrowed my eyes. “Anything else?”
His hands trembled as he placed the empty bottle back on the table. “Yesterday, at The Coffee Cove, I got an email from an account called EyeSeeYou.” His voice wavered, and he shuddered visibly.
“Forward it to me.” A low growl slipped into my tone. “We don’t have a tech department at the station, but I’ll send it to headquarters.” I frowned. I already anticipated the delay; forensics was perpetually backlogged.
He took his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and my phone dinged with a notification. “That’s everything I’ve got to give you. You already have the video of the door cam from the evening they left the knife, but you can’t see much. Just a vague person in baggy sweats.” His tired voice sounded like he’d reached his limit for the evening.
“I just don’t understand why anyone would stalk me,” Ethan said, his voice tight with confusion. “I can’t think of a single encounter—no angry fan, no confrontation—that would push someone over the edge like this.”
He ran a hand through his hair and let it fall limply to his side. “I mean…I’m just an author. My life’s so routine it borders on boring. As Ethan Cole, I’m openly gay. But under the Ethan Quinn pen name? I keep my personal life private. He doesn’t talk about sexuality. He doesn’t really talk about anything but the books.”
His eyes flicked up to meet mine, searching. “Do you think this could be about that? Homophobia?” He exhaled and spread his hands in helpless frustration. “Honestly, who even knows that Ethan Quinn is Ethan Cole? It’s a short list.”
I shook my head. “Nothing about this feels like a hate crime. No slurs. No targeted messaging. It’s all been about your work—your stories, your characters. Whoever this is, they’re fixated on your writing.”
That didn’t seem to offer him any comfort.
Ethan’s shoulders sagged like the weight of it all had finally pressed too hard. “Then why does it still feel so personal?”
Watching him try to make sense of something senseless, I wished I could give him an answer. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” I straightened my spine. “First thing Monday morning, I’m going to type up your statement. I’ll pick you up mid-morning, bring you to the station to sign it, and open an investigation. Then I’ll bring you home.” I raised an eyebrow, daring him to contradict me.
Ethan sighed heavily, but he nodded.
The resignation in his expression cut me deeply. “You’re not going anywhere alone. As your friend, I’ll accompany you to the grocery store and anywhere else you need to go. We’ll even pick up pumpkin spice lattes.” I grinned, trying to lighten the edict.
His mouth opened, likely to argue, but I cut him off with a raised finger. “Not up for debate.”
He shook his head and said firmly, “I can’t endanger you and Noah by being seen with you.”
“I can take care of myself, and I’ll have my sister look after Noah. He’ll enjoy spending extra time with Auntie Harper.” And as a bonus, I’d get to spend extra time with Ethan. Too bad it was under such circumstances.
I rose from the couch and tucked my phone into my pocket. I grabbed our empties and wandered into the kitchen to dump them in the recycling bin. “Call me immediately if anything else happens.” Ethan followed me to the front door, where I slipped into my shoes.
I turned back to him, and the sight of his ashy, drawn face twisted my gut. I gripped his arms gently. “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I said quietly. “We’re going to catch this person.”
He didn’t respond, just nodded mutely. His vulnerability hit me like a punch to my already twisty gut, and without thinking, I put an arm around his shoulders in a bro hug. He whimpered.
I wrapped both arms around him and pulled him closer. Hard chest to hard chest. My pulse picked up.
He stiffened, but after a moment, he circled my waist and laid his head on my shoulder.
And it felt…right. Grounding. I enjoyed having Ethan in my arms, tight against me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ethan
Garrett’s sheriff’s department SUV rumbled as it pulled into my driveway and brought a tangle of emotions to the surface. I was nervous—terrified, even—but I was also ready. For too long, I’d let fear dictate my every move. I was taking the first step in reclaiming my life. I locked my front door behind me.
Garrett climbed out of the SUV; his crisp uniform stretched across his broad shoulders. His presence was commanding, yet calm. He glanced at my Subaru, parked on one side of the driveway. His brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms.
“Why don’t you park in the garage?” His tone was casual, but the sharpness in his eyes suggested he was already forming an opinion.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “It’s full of debris from the renovation. The landlord never took it to the dump.”
His lips pressed into a thin line as he propped his hands on his hips. The morning light caught the badge on his chest, making it glint as he shifted his stance. “Have you asked Carl to remove it?”
“Of course I have. Several times.” A touch of exasperation crept into my voice. “He keeps saying he’ll do it, but then never does.”
