Page 23 of Fury
I take the phone with trembling fingers, my breath catching as I scroll through the images. Me leaving the salon in LA. Me shopping at the grocery store. Me sitting at an outdoor café.
But the majority of the photos aren't just of me.
"Diane," I whisper, my knees weakening as I recognize my friend from LA in most of the pictures. "She's in almost all of these."
Greyson steadies me with a strong arm around my waist. "Who's Diane?"
"My roommate in LA," I explain, still scrolling through the disturbing collection of images. "We worked at the same salon. She's my best friend there."
In photo after photo, Diane and I are together, laughing outside the salon, having drinks at our favorite bar, walking through the farmers market we visited every Sunday. Some shots are from a distance, clearly taken without our knowledge. Others are more intimate, as if the photographer was just a few feet away.
"There's more," Mason says grimly. "Dad didn't want to show you, but I think you need to see everything."
He takes the phone back, opening another folder. This time, the images make my blood run cold. My parents' house. Aunt Brittany's salon. The Grim Sinners' compound. And properties I recognize from family vacations, our cabin in Colorado, and the beach house in Florida that belongs to my uncle.
"He's been watching all of us," I realize, horror spreading through me. "Not just me. Our whole family."
"That's not all," Mason continues, scrolling to show me one final image. "We found this taped to the dashboard."
It's a map of the United States, with red X's marked across various locations. I recognize them immediately. It includes every property owned by the Bennett family, including some I'd forgotten about. Lines connect the marks in a pattern that makes no sense to me but clearly meant something to the stalker.
"It's like he's searching for something," Greyson says, studying the map over my shoulder. "Methodically checking locations connected to your family, and there is a bunch circled that doesn’t have an X yet.
"But what?" I ask, my mind racing. "We don't have anything worth this kind of… obsession. And what about Diane?" I ask, fear for my friend suddenly overwhelming me. "If he's obsessed with both of us, she could be in danger. I haven’t talked to her since before I left LA." Questions continue to swirl in my head. "Did you find anything else? Any ID, any clue who this guy is?"
Mason hesitates, exchanging another look with Greyson. "Nothing concrete. But there was something… odd. There were clippings in the back seat, it’s almost like court documents. We are trying to tape them back together.
"I need to call Diane," I say, pushing past my brother and striding toward the kitchen where I'd left my phone. My hands tremble as I scroll through my contacts. "If he's watching both of us, she needs to know."
Greyson follows me, his presence solid and reassuring at my back. "Put it on speaker."
I nod, tapping Diane's contact and hitting the speaker icon. The phone rings three times before her familiar voice answers, slightly groggy with sleep.
"Livie? It's, like, six in the morning here. Is everything okay?"
"No, it's not," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Diane, do you remember the guy who was stalking me in LA? He followed me home to Blackridge."
"What?" She sounds instantly alert. "Oh my God, are you safe?"
"I'm okay, but we found his car, and there were pictures, Diane. Dozens of them. Of me, of my family's properties, and… of you. You're in most of them."
The line goes silent for so long, I wonder if we've lost connection.
"Diane?"
Her voice, when she finally speaks, is barely above a whisper. "I was afraid of this."
"What do you mean?" I ask, my stomach dropping. "Did you know about this?"
Mason and Greyson exchange concerned glances as Diane takes a shaky breath.
"I didn't know he was stalking us, not exactly, but… I think I know who he is. And why he's after us." She pauses. "Or rather, why he's after me."
I grip the counter for support. "Tell me."
"Remember that client I had? The one with the anger issues who only wanted me to do his hair?"
"Richard something? The finance guy?"
