I nearly dropped the phone. The crosswalk signal changed, but I remained frozen on the corner, staring at the screen. Someone was watching me and heard my conversation with Michael.
The progression made a sickening kind of sense. First, I had the digital warning on my computer, where my research lived. Next, a physical intrusion into my home, where I lived.
Now, they breached my phone, my last private space. They were methodically closing in, each step more intimate than the last.
I thought of the signs I'd missed: my laptop fan running too hot yesterday, the brief static on my call with my department chair, and my laptop's battery draining faster than normal. I'd dismissed each as ordinary technical glitches. Now, they formed a pattern I couldn't unsee.
My throat constricted around a knot of fear. I looked up, scanning the street, storefronts, and parked cars. Nothing was obviously out of place, but I felt exposed as if standing in a spotlight.
I switched the phone off, shoving it deep into my pocket. My pace quickened until I was nearly jogging. The coffee shop appeared ahead, its warmly lit windows a beacon of normalcy in a world suddenly gone sideways.
Inside, the familiar scents of coffee and pastries wrapped around me. The barista—Ella, according to her name tag—greeted me with the casual recognition reserved for regulars.
"The usual, Dr. K? Double espresso and a blueberry scone?"
"Thanks, Ella. And maybe an extra shot today."
"Rough morning?"
I glanced back at the door, half-expecting to see someone following me. "You could say that."
Chapter eleven
Michael
Isolationspreadlikemoldin my apartment. It seeped into the walls, curled into my lungs, and weighed down every breath.
I sat on the couch, time unwinding around me until night and day blurred into the same hollow shape. The TV flickered with muted images I wasn't watching, casting blue shadows across takeout containers I'd stopped bothering to throw away.
My phone vibrated somewhere beneath yesterday's mail, but I let it buzz itself into silence. Every call or text message was another reminder that I'd become radioactive.
The Seattle rain drummed against the windows, a constant and dreary beat. I'd always found comfort in the sound before, but now it was merely white noise blocking me off from the rest of the world.
Marcus had left three more messages. Miles sent memes I didn't open. Matthew had texted once with forced casualness that fooled neither of us. I didn't respond to any of them. What could I say that wouldn't drag them further into my mess?
I rubbed my thumb against the side of my index finger, searching for the outline of my father's badge I'd lost somewhere in Tahiti. Its absence haunted me like a missing limb.
The knock on my door startled me so badly that I nearly knocked over my cold cup of coffee. It wasn't a tentative or questioning sound. It demanded a response.
I climbed to my feet, listening to my knees creak. Nobody knocked on my door. Nobody except my brothers, and they would have called first.
I moved silently across the floor, years of training making my footfalls soundless despite the wooden planks that should have creaked. I leaned forward when I reached the door and peered through the peephole.
I blinked.
Alex stood in the hallway, looking like he'd swum to my place. His hair was plastered to his forehead, rainwater streaming down his face and dripping from the edges of his jacket. I watched his shoulders rise and fall with each breath as if he'd been running.
Surely, my mind was playing tricks. I closed my eyes momentarily, but he was still there when I opened them again.
My hand hesitated on the deadbolt. I could leave it locked and pretend I wasn't home. I could protect him from the shell of a man I'd become.
Instead, I wrenched the door open with enough force to rattle the hinges.
"How the hell did you find me?" I gripped the door frame hard enough for the wood to bite into my palm.
He didn't flinch at my tone. His eyes, steady and clear despite the rainwater dripping from his lashes, locked onto mine. "Google. Your full name's scrolled across every news site for days, and you mentioned West Seattle over breakfast."
He stood his ground in the hallway, rainwater pooling around his shoes. His backpack hung heavy from one shoulder, and he shivered slightly.
