“’I’m here when you need me.’ Holy shit, Ken. He has your real name and address.” Ozzy stares down at the card.
“You didn’t call the police? Tell McMichael? Your parents?” he adds.
“No.”
“Why the hell not?” Ezra asks.
“Because my mom is already a fucking basket case about everything that’s happened. Even yesterday, she suggested that maybe I shouldn’t go on the senior retreat. She’ll send me to boarding school if she finds out about this.”
“You’d probably be safer there,” Finn says. “Tell them the rest.”
“There’s more?” Ezra asks, back ramrod straight.
I explain about the lingerie. Why I thought it was from Finn—the little gifts he leaves me in my room. That we didn’t notice until this morning when I asked him about it. I look at the boy next door. The hurt and anger in his eyes. The fear. The worst part of it all is that it sullies the time we spent together. Our time. The first time.
“He sent that to you?” Ozzy asks. “Kenley, that’s not okay. It’s creepy as fuck. We have to tell someone.”
“My mom—”
“Your mom is right to be worried about you,” Finn shouts. “Someone got into your house. In your bedroom and left you sexy lingerie. God, what if he came in there while you were there?”
“He didn’t.” I have no idea if he did, but the thought of it is too much.
“I can’t—” Finn’s jaw slams shut, and he stands as much as he can, stepping over the rest of us to exit the cottage. A moment later, the sound of a tree being snapped in half echoes through the woods.
Ozzy takes a deep breath. “I’ll go talk to him.”
He squeezes my knee and walks out.
Ezra stares at me.
“Are you mad, too?”
“No, but I’m scared as fuck. You’ve got a stalker, Kenley. Finn’s right. You have to call McMichael.”
I know I should, but I don’t exactly know why I haven’t. There’s something about the link to him that keeps the door open for me to find out what Rose was doing. Something I can’t stop thinking about.
Ezra leans over so that our foreheads are nearly touching.
“Babe,” he says, “you’ve got a touch of darkness in you. It’s sexy and scary, and it’s why I’m not surprised. You can’t leave this shit alone. Maybe someone knows that.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means that it’s probably unlikely a random guy on SugarBabies would be able to find your name and address, but you’ve put a target on your back the last few months—particularly with powerful men that don’t like nosy girls.”
The list is short but damning:
Brice Waller, Mayor.
Jason Chandler, Beloved Hometown Hero.
Ezra Baxter, Sr., Powerful Attorney.
Add in my connection to Monica Chandler, the Channel 8 News, the Chief of Police and all the other pots I’ve been stirring in, Ezra may be right.
“What do you think they’re trying to do?” I ask.
“What they always want, to intimidate you.”