Page 26 of Tides of Change
Garrett turned to me. Questions and fury warred in his expression.
Numb, I continued, “Inside was a photo of her husband. He was the next target.”
Garrett straightened his spine, all business now. “Don’t touch it. I’ll grab my gloves and a bag.”
He jogged to the SUV while I stood frozen on the porch, staring down at the twisted chain and trying not to let my imagination spiral. But it was too late for that. Because if this was what I thought it was, someone wasn’t just reading my books—they were using them as a blueprint.
Garrett returned quickly, gloved up, and took photos from several angles with his phone. Then he knelt again and gently picked up the locket, holding it steady as he clicked the clasp open.
My breath caught.
Inside the locket was a photo—small, curled slightly at the edges, but unmistakable.
Me.
My face stared back from within the polished metal. One of my author headshots, the kind you could find online with a quick image search.
A cold wave of dread washed over me, and my heart thudded in my chest.
Garrett looked up, jaw set. “This isn’t just a sick prank.”
“No,” I said quietly. “It’s scary.”
And suddenly, every step I’d taken to disappear didn’t feel like enough.
I pulled up my door cam footage on my phone, hoping for answers. Instead, static filled the screen for the minutes the stalker left the locket. I showed it to Garrett, and my frustration mounted.
“They used a jammer,” he muttered with restrained rage. “Illegal, but that’s the least of their crimes.” He blew out a sharp breath. “I’ll check other cameras in the neighborhood, but if theyused the jammer along the entire street…” He shook his head. “Go inside, lock the door, and call me if anything else happens. If you need to go anywhere, I’m coming with you.” His lips twitched into a small, determined grin. “Also, plan on getting together this weekend. We’re not allowing this person to run us to ground.”
I blinked at him, the words taking a second to settle.
We’re not allowing this person to run us to ground.
The “we” lodged in my chest like a flare of warmth and fear colliding. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to argue, to protect him and Noah by keeping my distance. But another part—the part that was tired of hiding, of flinching at shadows—clung to his conviction.
I nodded slowly. “Okay,” I said, voice rough. “This weekend. Just…don’t let me pull away if I start to panic.”
Garrett’s expression softened. “I won’t.”
And for the first time in days, I almost believed I didn’t have to do this alone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Garrett
I rang Ethan’s doorbell, leaning into the field of the camera with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. The early afternoon sun cast deep shadows over the porch, but it did nothing to ease the tension knotting my stomach. My feet ached in my boots from hours spent canvassing the neighborhood, and I felt the sting of failure in the pit of my gut.
The lock clicked, and Ethan opened the door, his hesitant smile a reflection of my own reservations. “I hope you have good news.”
I exhaled deeply, letting the breath settle my thoughts. “May I come in?”
Ethan’s smile faltered. He stepped aside, his movements stilted, as though bracing himself for disappointment.
Inside, I stopped in the entryway, his familiar cedarwood scent wrapping around me.
His brow knit with worry. “Did you find anything?”
I propped my hands on my hips, and frustration simmered just below the surface. “Someone jammed the door cams all up and down the street around the time they left the locket on your porch.”
