I don’t have an answer. I’d always assumed his paranoia made him hire the guy, and now I’m embarrassed to admit it.
Deklan closes his eyes and leans against the counter again. I watch his shoulders rise and fall as he breathes slowly and deeply. After a full minu
te, he steps back and faces me. He clenches his hands a few times as he walks slowly back to the couch and drops to one knee in front of me.
I flinch and press my back to the couch cushion.
“Kera,” Deklan says softly as he holds both of my hands, “I’m sorry I lost it there. The thought of someone threatening you is”—he takes another long breath—“Please, just tell me everything. Start with the first time you noticed this man.”
“He was just always there, in the back of the coffee shop.” I try to keep my voice soft as I answer. “That’s where I saw him first. I noticed he was looking at me, but when I looked at him, he’d stick his nose in the newspaper.”
“Describe him.”
“He’s just a normal looking guy. He’s six foot or so, skinny, with brown hair, maybe brown eyes—very plain. He always waits until I’m busy making someone else’s coffee, so Terry takes his order, but I saw the name Charlie on his cup.”
“Who’s Terry?”
“The assistant manager at the coffee shop.”
Deklan nods as he takes another breath. He runs his thumbs over the back of my hands as he looks at me, his eyes still intense.
“Is that all he’s done?” he asks. “Just watch you?”
“He’s followed me back here.”
Deklan squeezes my hands for a second as he grits his teeth.
“He followed you here? Into the building?”
“Not inside,” I say. “He usually stops at the corner or crosses the street.”
“Where else have you seen him?”
“Mostly just at the coffee shop, but I thought I saw him twice when I was out with Kathy. I’m not sure though.”
“You were drunk.” Deklan closes his eyes and shakes his head before glaring back at me. “Drunk, and some creep is following you. This is fucking fabulous.”
He releases my hands and leans back on his heels.
“You think his name is Charlie?”
“I don’t really know,” I say. “That’s the name he gives for his orders, but it’s not like we check IDs.”
Deklan stares into space for a moment. I wonder if he’s trying to come up with anyone he knows named Charlie or Charles.
“When have you seen him at the coffee shop?” he asks. “What time of day?”
“Around ten o’clock when I’m not working. Earlier when I am.”
“It’s after noon now.” Deklan glances down at his watch.
“But it’s Sunday. You’re usually with me on Sundays.”
“Do you work tomorrow?”
“No, not until Wednesday.”
“Time?”