I chuckled. “Oh yeah, that’s how I spent my night—snapping photos.”
Her thumb paused on the screen, and her brows drew together. “Huh.”
“What?”
She shrugged. “I’m just thinking it’s odd that you took a photo of a cup of coffee on your table. But then, you’ve never been normal.”
I frowned. “Let me see.” I looked at the picture, and my skin prickled. “I didn’t take this.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.” I checked the date that the photo was taken. Friday. “Maybe it was Cade. He turned up at my apartment Friday night.” But I’d had my phone with me at the Clubhouse, hadn’t I? I couldn’t be sure.
“No, you can see the sun shining through the window. This was taken in the daytime.”
She was right. And then I remembered … “I accidentally left my phone at home while I was at work on Friday.”
“You certain?”
“Yeah. I remember because I’d wanted to jot down some ideas on my notepad app, so I’d been pissed with myself for leaving my phone at home. I definitely didn’t have it with me at work that day.” And that left only one explanation as to how the photo came to exist—an explanation that made my insides seize up and an ice-cold finger flutter down my spine. “Someone broke into my apartment, Sarah,” I said, amazed and chilled. “Someone broke into my apartment, made themselves a fucking cup of coffee, took a picture to prove it, and then left.”
Sarah paled. “It still might have been Cade. He has a key to your place, and he’s weird enough to do something stupid like that, not thinking it would scare you—he doesn’t know about Smith.”
There was one way to know for sure. I strode out of the breakroom and, ignoring Sherry’s questioning look, stalked out of the bar. I found Cade inside CCC, singing along with the radio while working on a badass bike. I showed him my phone. “Cade, did you take this photo?”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Did you take this?”
He looked at it, and his frown deepened. “No. Why would I snap a picture of a cup of coffee? Why would anyone?”
I exchanged a worried look with Sarah, who was stroking Bandit.
Cade smoothly got to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
I wiped all emotion from my face. “Nothing. Nice bike. Whose is it?”
As easily distracted as a cat, Cade jabbered on about the bike and its famous owner. I nodded along, smiling, but my mind was on that damn picture … and on what that picture indicated. Smith had been in my goddamn home. My. Home.
Back inside the bar, Sarah pulled me into an empty corner and whispered, “It has to have been Smith. Ricky. Whatever you want to call him.”
I nodded. “He wanted me to know he’s been in my apartment. Wanted to show me how clever he is. God, Sarah, the bastard was in my fucking home.” I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.
Sarah rubbed her upper arm. “Do you think he might have broken in before?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he has.” The fucker. “Cade said that he closed and locked the door after coming into my apartment Friday night, but the door was open when I got there.”
Sarah’s face hardened. “I’ll bet Ricky wasn’t expecting to see Cade there. He either broke in because he knew you were out or because he thought you were asleep—I don’t like either of those possibilities.”
No, neither did I. “We need to check my other photos to be sure he hasn’t taken any others in the past—I don’t make a habit of forgetting my phone, so I doubt he has, but I’d rather know for sure.”
Sarah and I flicked through the photo album, and I was relieved to find that I’d taken the other pictures myself. That relief left me in a rush when I realized that … “A video was recorded on Saturday. I didn’t do it.”
“Play it,” urged Sarah. Huddled together, we both watched as the camera blinked on, showing my living room. Whoever was holding my cell phone moved forward into the kitchen and then through to my bedroom. That was when I heard the echo of water hammering against porcelain, and my stomach sunk.
Just as I’d anticipated, the bastard walked right into the bathroom and videoed me in the shower. Yes, videoed me in the shower with my own damn phone. Thanks to the shower curtain, there wasn’t much of me to see, but that wasn’t the fucking point.
“Bastard,” Sarah hissed as the video came to an abrupt end.
Nostrils flaring, I clenched my fists. Rage pounded through me, tightening my chest. “I’ll kill him, Sarah. I swear to God, I’ll kill him. The idea of jail time doesn’t scare me.”
“He’s one cocky motherfucker to break into your home while you’re there and pull this shit.” Sarah chewed her thumb. “He wants to mess with your head, but he clearly doesn’t want to hurt you. If he did, he’d have done it already. Still, you should call the police.”
I shook my head. “I won’t let Ricky screw up what I’ve achieved.”
“You don’t have to mention the story he wrote. You can just tell them that it’s clear someone’s been in your apartment. I know Joshua wouldn’t take it seriously, but you could state that you want someone else to handle it.”
“Which would get me nowhere. Even if it did, think like a cop for a moment, Sarah. The guy broke in, yes, but he didn’t hurt me so, like you, they’ll think he’s not a physical threat. They’re no signs of forced entry, nothing has gone missing—I’d have noticed by now if there was—and there’s no way at all to tell who took that video. If they believe it’s Ricky, they’ll take into account that he never physically hurt me now or in the past. Back then, he just liked to send whiny letters. If the police don’t believe it’s him, they’ll probably say it was someone playing a prank and then act like I’m being dramatic.”
“But—”
“Do you remember when I was almost mugged? The police didn’t even take that seriously. They said that without a proper description of the culprit, there wasn’t much they could do. They’ll easily ignore this, especially since Joshua will have fun ensuring they do.”
Sarah sighed. “You’re right. But you need to take this more seriously now, Kensey. Ricky clearly isn’t satisfied with just writing a weird story. He wants you to be scared, but scaring you from afar is obviously not enough for him anymore. He wants to get close to you, and he wants you to know that he did.” She licked her lips. “Are you going to tell Blake?”
I double-blinked. “Why would I? Part of our arrangement is that our lives don’t mix outside of the Vault.”
Her shoulders sagged. “He’s the kind of guy who could take on shit like this. You know, it might be time to tell our families. They need to know that Ricky’s hanging around and to keep a lookout for him.”
I rubbed at my temple. “Clear won’t take this well.”
“I know, but Ricky could try harassing her to upset you. She needs to be on her guard. Forewarned is forearmed.”
I sighed. “You’re right. I’ll tell them.”
“And Reed should know, too. We can keep out the online story and that you self-publish books. We’ll just say someone broke into your home and made a recording of you, and that we think it’s Ricky, since he’s been hanging around.”