When I say law partner, it’s like something in Josh’s body language changes. He narrows his eyes and nods. “Did someone do something, Annie? Something inappropriate?”

  I shake my head so abruptly that my braid flies onto my shoulder.

  Josh looks like a pot about to boil over. I imagine in his line of work he sees the worst in people, but this isn’t like that. It’s just a little awkward.

  “So, what happened?” Josh presses.

  I nod. “After the little office party, Mr. Engler cornered me at my desk and asked me if he could take me to dinner. I wasn’t sure how he meant it, like, as a date or something. He’s my dad’s partner and was my boss. He was always kind, and nothing ever felt weird until that moment. I said yes, but…”

  All of a sudden, I feel super embarrassed admitting this to the strangely hot PI guy.

  “I ghosted him. Didn’t show. Didn’t text. Nothing. I just couldn’t. It felt too weird.”

  To my surprise, Josh looks really relieved. “So, what then? Did he start harassing you or anything?”

  I shake my head. “He never said a thing about it. He never called me that night, didn’t text me. He sent me an email a day or two after I blew him off.”

  “What did that email say?” Josh asks. “Do you still have it?”

  I nod. “He said if I ever change my mind about grad school, he’d happily talk to my dad about giving me a bump in pay to stay at the law firm. He said I’ve been a bright spot and an exceptional employee, and he would love to see me pursue my dreams, but a practical career in the law would always be waiting for me.”

  Josh is quiet, but his shoulders seem to relax a bit. “Okay,” he muses, squinting a little as he thinks. “So, no bad feelings with Dad’s law partner. Do you think that dinner was supposed to be a date in his mind? Is there a chance he wanted to take you to dinner to ask you to stay at the firm?”

  “I don’t know.” I sigh. “Maybe I should have gone to the dinner after all. Then I would know either way and I wouldn’t feel like I did something wrong.”

  He drops his pen and shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong,” he says forcefully. “Listen, Annie. I’ve seen people do a lot of shit to one another. Nasty, horrible, dangerous shit. Even to people they’ve known forever. Even to people they love. Always listen to your gut, and never, ever apologize for trusting your instincts.”

  “How can you do it?” I ask quietly. “With everything you see in people every day, how can you ever trust anyone?”

  Josh rakes a hand through his hair, but then he meets my eyes when he answers. “You have to,” he tells me. “Sometimes you get hurt. People will let you down. But if you never give people a chance and let them in, life is incredibly lonely.”

  I wonder if he’s telling me this because he has been lonely. I could see the other PI’s that I met with today being that way. Hardened, closed off to love and even friendship. I don’t want that in my life. I don’t want to be afraid to walk into my studio for fear of what somebody might want to do to me.

  I lean forward on the desk and clasp my hands in front of me. “Whatever this is,” I say, “can you help me, Josh? I don’t have a ton of money, but I was thinking maybe if I hired you for security services, you could walk me to and from my studio for a few days. Maybe seeing someone—” I look his large, muscular frame up and down “—like you around will discourage whoever this is from bothering me.”

  Josh is quiet for a moment, tapping the end of the pen against his lips. “Security?” he asks. “You want to hire me like a bodyguard?”

  I nod. “When I heard what the other PI’s charge, I knew I probably couldn’t afford a whole investigation. I’m not sure it even matters what this is about, as long as it stops. I Googled private security, and your listing came up. I thought I’d look into that as an option.”

  Something in Josh’s shoulders shifts when I bring up his rates. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Most of us take a retainer to start. We add on expenses, if there are any. Mileage or gas, stuff like that.”

  He asks a few questions, like where I go to school, and he calculates the distance between his office and campus. Then he asks about my budget and whether my father knows anything about what’s going on.

  “I really don’t want to go to my father,” I admit. “He’s paying for school, which is a huge, huge gift. If he finds out anything weird is going on, he’ll pull me out, and all that tuition will go to waste.”

  “Annie…” Josh shakes his head. “If this escalates, for your own safety, you may need to go to your father. Hell, you may need to go to the police. I recommend you go now, just to get a report on file. There hasn’t been a demand for money or any other coercion yet, so there’s not much the cops can do. It’s not clear if you’re being stalked, if someone’s trying to extort money from you…”

  The more he talks, the more a sense of uncomfortable foreboding settles over my entire body like a heavy blanket.

  I stand from the chair and pace the lobby, the heavy panic deciding to settle in my chest. I’ve got to move, got to shake these feelings off before they sink me. “Who the heck would stalk me? I barely know anyone on campus yet. I mean, I hardly have any friends. How could I have enemies?”

  Josh stands too, and while he doesn’t approach me, he does look me straight in the eye. “Annie, you’re beautiful. You never know who might notice you and get weird-ass ideas in their head. Stalking doesn’t have to be about someone knowing you. It could be anyone who thinks they know you or someone who wants to know you.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me harshly. “I’ll take your case,” he says abruptly, then turns and walks into his office.

  “Wait…what?” We haven’t even talked about money or how I’m going to pay him.

  He returns a moment later with his laptop. “I’m going to take some basic personal information,” he tells me, opening the lid and tapping the keys. “I won’t charge a retainer, and I’ll work by the hour. Can you afford this?”

  He turns the screen to face outward, so I go back to the desk and bend over to read the client service agreement. I scan the fields he’s filled in, and my mouth drops open when I see his hourly rate.

  “Is that what you charge?” I ask. “That can’t be right.”

  He points a long finger farther down the page to another paragraph. “I’m going to limit my initial investigation to ten hours. If I can’t get your answers in that amount of time, we’ll revisit this rate. Fair?”

  I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I gave up my apartment to move in to the much cheaper dorms. I paid my room and board out of my savings, and now that I’m not working at all, what’s left in my account has to cover everything. I was only a receptionist when I worked for my dad, so it’s not like I was making big bucks and was able to save up a ton of cash. But the rate Josh is charging me is something I can easily afford. But it’s far too little, in my opinion. And I’m not sure why he’s cut me a deal like this. Unless…

  No. He’s not given me any creepy vibes at all. He’s been nothing but warm and professional. And still, I have to ask the question.

  “Why?” I search the contours of his face for answers. For secrets. Is he a wolf in sheep’s clothing and I’m about to open the door and let him in? “Why would you do this for me?”

  He sniffs and then waves at me as if to dismiss the question. “I’m between corporate gigs,” he says simply. “I have some extra time at the moment. I’d rather take a pay cut and have some work to tide me over. But there are a few conditions you’ll have to follow.”

  Here it comes. The strings attached to his too-good-to-be-true offer. I haven’t signed anything yet. I am, after all, the daughter of a lawyer. Now it’s my turn to cross my arms and consider his conditions.

  “What are they?” I ask, looking over at the notes spread on his desk. If I don’t like what he says, I’ll take the notes and my backpack and just leave. It’s that simple. I may be in some kind of danger, but I’m not powerless.

  “You tell me everything that happens as it happens,” he says. “Nothing is too big or too small. You take this seriously, Annie. What I mean is, don’t tolerate anything. Don’t sit there and take it, Annie. You deserve to feel safe on campus, out in the world. You speak up. No matter what it is, you tell me. If I’m not there, you yell. You tell somebody to fuck off if they even look at you funny. You hear me? You deserve better than this bullshit, and we’re going to get to the bottom of it. But I can’t put a stop to it if I don’t know what’s hurting you. Are we clear?”

  Tears sting my eyes, and I nod.

  Josh may look like a big, bad wolf, but I have a feeling I may have just met my knight in shining armor.

  4

  ARROW

  “Come on,” I say, closing the lid to my laptop. Annie’s signed my standard client service agreement, so it’s time to get to work.

  “Come on?” She stands and slings the backpack over her tanned shoulder, after putting the folder of letters back inside. “Where are we going?”

  I slip my phone into my pocket and grab the keys to my truck. “Campus.” I already have a plan in mind. I need to get the lay of the land first—where she lives and works. Maybe then I can figure out how this person is getting the letters to her. If I can figure out how, I’m one step closer to figuring out who. In the meantime, there’s more digging I plan to do to get as close as I can to the why. “I want to see everything. Your studio, your dorm room. All of it.”

  “Umm…” She looks uncomfortable, like she’s having second thoughts, but then nods. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Should we ride together? We can take my car. I have a fully paid student parking pass.”

  I stifle a groan. The last thing I want is to be chauffeured around, but if she drives, I’ll have a better opportunity to pay attention to the surroundings without focusing on the road.

  “Yeah,” I say. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  She giggles, and I realize I echoed almost exactly what she just said. I crack a grin. She’s cute. No, she’s gorgeous. And sweet. There’s no way I’m going to let some shady bastard scare her—or worse.

  After I lock up the office, I get serious. I turn to follow her to the car but nearly stop when the bright sunshine hits her perfect smile. She looks relaxed and light. The tension and awkwardness from inside evaporate like a drop of water in the Florida heat.

  Something inside me stirs hard, and I have to look away to stop from thinking of her as more than just a client. More than a woman who has a credible threat to her safety. She’s hired me, and I clench my hands into fists, reminding myself to keep a professional distance.

  She almost bounces on her flip-flops as she leads me to a silver Honda sedan. “You don’t look like the kind of guy who’d ever let a woman drive him around.”

  “I’m normally not,” I grunt. And yet here I am, stalking up to the passenger side of a modest, but well-kept four-door sedan.

  While she’s given me no reason to distrust her, I’m relieved that the car she drives fits with the story she’s told. So many of my clients have the kind of disposable income most of us only dream of. I’ve tailed wives, daughters, and lovers in cars that cost more than my condo.

  Annie Hancock isn’t a flashy, spoiled lawyer’s daughter.

  Which makes the last letter she received all the more curious. Who could want her to pay? Pay for what? With what? I’m going to have to take pics of those letters now that I’ve taken her case, so we have a record if she does, in fact, have to turn them over to the police.

  She unlocks the doors and climbs behind the wheel.

  As I get inside, I notice bags lining the footwell in the back seat. “Anything valuable in there?” I slide into the passenger seat and fasten the seat belt.

  Annie frowns, a little crinkle forming between her brows. A fucking adorable crinkle. I shove the thought away and watch as she lowers a pair of sunglasses over her eyes and starts the car.

  “No. Why?” she asks. “Just thrift store finds. I upcycle and recycle materials as much as I can.”

  “Trunk might be safer. Doesn’t take much to tempt a smash-and-grab with the bags left in plain sight.” I realize I’m staring at her when I see the frown that tugs at her full lips replaced by a playful smile.

  “The trunk might be safer, but…”

  “Annie,” I say, trying to adjust my legs to fit in the small car. “If there’s a body back there, I’m not sure I want to know.”

  She laughs but then quickly sobers. She adjusts the rearview mirror and backs out of the spot. “I probably shouldn’t laugh,” she says. “I wish all of this were just a joke.”

  “You don’t know what this is,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “And you don’t have to. That’s my job now. I’m going to get answers.”

  On the short drive to the Florida Arts campus, I drill her about her routine. She answers every question until I bring up the uncomfortable stuff.

  “So, I know you said earlier there were no exes,” I say, trying to word this in a way that won’t freak her out. “Nobody out there who thinks you stole her husband?”

  Annie flicks a quick look at me, her long braid dusting her shoulders. I can’t see her eyes behind the sunglasses, but she shakes her head and draws that full lower lip between her teeth.

  “No,” she says. “There’s nothing like that.” She hesitates a minute, so I wait.

  I’ve learned that the full truth very rarely comes out on the first try. I get the feeling that Annie’s smart, so I don’t try to trap her with the tricks that would work on my usual clients, repeating the question in different ways or “accidentally” misremembering what they said, forcing the person to clarify what they meant the first time. I can’t tell you how many times a new truth comes out when someone thinks that you won’t remember what they originally said.

  What she says next, though, surprises me.

  “I… This may sound weird, but…I can really only think of one person who might have a grudge against me. But I can’t…” She shrugs. “I mean, you probably see the worst in people. I’m sure nothing surprises you.”

  I nod but stay quiet. I knew there was more coming. There always is.

  She starts to talk just as we pull onto campus. I split my attention between what she’s saying and noticing every single thing I’m seeing around me. Even worse is what I’m not seeing.

  First, there’s no security barring the public from entering campus. Any vehicle can drive past the massive stucco-and-metal sculpture that is about the only thing separating the palm-tree-lined streets of the neighborhood from the campus property. No security station. No signs proclaiming this is private property. Nada.

  Fuck.

  Annie turns into a parking structure right off Arts Lane. This, too, is open to the public. There are no automated arms, no key fobs. Literally nothing to stop any dickhead from following her in. She drives into the structure, parks in an unnumbered spot, which means no assigned parking, and pulls a hangtag from a pocket in the driver’s side door.

  “Thank God,” I say quietly.

  “What?” she asks, hanging the plastic bar code from her mirror.

  “At least you don’t drive around with that thing hanging in your car. Anybody anywhere you park can see that you’re a student. Those fucking hangtags should be illegal. They are the least secure form of parking enforcement out there. Especially for students.”

  She looks serious. “Not secure but cheap, I bet. I’m all for whatever it takes to keep my costs down, but when you look at it that way…” She frowns and turns a little in her seat to face me. “How do you do it?” she asks. “How do you see the worst in everything and not feel angry all the time? I don’t know. Maybe you are angry.” She huffs a sigh and leans back in her seat. As the engine goes quiet, the car falls silent. Her question hangs heavy between us.

  “I do get angry, but not the way you might think,” I say, wanting for some reason I can’t fully understand to give her the truth. “I don’t walk through the world seeing every possible hazard, every worst-case scenario, or else it would be hard to get out of bed in the morning.”

  She’s watching me talk, sucking her lower lip between her teeth.

  “But there are times when my experience with, well, with the worst that people can do qualifies me to make sure those people do as little harm to others as possible. That’s what keeps me going.”

  She searches my face. “So, you do this to help people? Why not become a police officer or something? Did you ever want to do that?”

  I laugh at that. “There’s no way anybody’s letting me enforce the laws. I don’t have a squeaky-clean past, and I’ve spent a lot of time hanging with sinners not saints. I think I’m right where I need to be. Catching cheats, liars, and stopping crimes when I can, before they happen.”

  “I never thought about it that way.” She leans toward me and reaches into the back seat to grab her backpack. She can’t quite reach it, and her face is just inches from my shoulder. She blushes, a crimson cloud blooming across her chest. “I’ll grab that when we get out.”

  We unbuckle our belts and step out into the heat of the parking garage. While she gets her backpack, I look around, checking for exits, security cameras, security phones. I don’t like what I’m seeing. Rather, what I’m not seeing.

  “You were saying earlier, Annie,” I remind her as she locks her car. “About somebody who might have a grudge.”

  I want her talking, but at the same time, I’m in threat-assessment mode. I can already tell that whoever is leaving these notes for Annie doesn’t have to try very hard to gain access to the campus itself. I can only hope that the rest of campus is more secure.

  It’s hard to believe a private college campus has nothing in the way of functional security.

  “Oh yeah.” She adjusts the backpack over her shoulders and points left. She follows a sidewalk that is artfully decorated with words stamped into the concrete. I squint through the dark filter of my sunglasses to make out the details.