[A short chapter but we will dive into the nitty gritty soon. Thank u for being patient and I hope the rest of the school year goes well for those that are still struggling :) stay safe and stay indoors!!]

I sit in my car parked in the driveway and watch the sun rise behind me in the rear view mirror. The lights in the house are off and the curtains are still drawn in the bedroom. Brendon likes to open the curtains when he wakes up.

I can't bring myself to go inside. I can't bring myself to go inside and act like nothing is wrong. How am I supposed to continue with an average life knowing someone has been watching me for months? Whoever it is has my address and photos of me in my own home and driving home from work, along with probably everything else I have ever associated with. I have a routine and I try to stick to it, and there is no use in changing it now if this person knows everything about me. I recognize and accept that I'm directly in harms way, but I refuse to apply the same information to my fiancé. He already worries about me enough. This would be a sucker punch to the gut. I shouldn't tell him.

I'm so tired, all I want to do is roll into bed and let sleep transport me into the void for just a few more hours. I just want a few hours in my own bed in my own home, but I know whatever I do right now could jeopardize everything I own. Whoever has been watching is sure to be on high alert directly after being revealed. They're undoubtedly watching somebody right now, and there's no reason why it couldn't be me.

My phone buzzes in the cup holder. Lo and behold, it's Brendon. "Hey, what're you doing up so early?"

"I actually just woke up," he mumbles, half asleep and obviously still in bed, "can you bring home breakfast? Like, McDonald's or whatever is on your way home? I don't want to go out anymore."

"Just whatever?"

"Denny's, iHop, Sunny Side Up, I don't care. I just want some greasy pancakes and syrupy scrambled eggs."

Under different circumstances, I would tell him I'm outside and I should force him go to breakfast with me at some cheap establishment with unlimited coffee for the price of a dollar. Thinking about the note and all the pictures, I just want to keep him inside with the alarm set and the doors locked.

"Do you want coffee? Tea? Smoothie?"

"Surprise me."

"If I surprise you, I'll be bringing home all three options and more variations within those options."

He curses under his breath. I'm annoying him but he can't bite the hand that provides. "Coffee."

My heart starts beating faster. What am I risking by sitting in the driveway of my home, in my own vehicle, where my entire life is based? If someone is watching me, how much do they know and how much do I have left to hide?

"What type of coffee? From where? Small cup, large? I can bring a reusable cup? Hot, iced, in between? Milk and sugar? Do you want sugary garbage or actual coffee? Or I can get you a Frappuccino, or I can—"

"Surprise me. Just normal coffee. Don't you have a reusable cup in the car? Under the passenger seat? Use that."

"I don't have a reusable—" I pat around the floor of the car and sure enough, I find one of my favorite cups, "—never mind. It's the one you got me for Christmas last year. I thought I put it in the dishwasher."

I can practically hear his eyes light up through the phone. "Ooh, really? I'm so glad you use it!"

It's a cold cup covered in a matte shade of dark blue. The phrase, "best forensic investigator ever" is written across one side in a blocky gold font. He had it special ordered. I do in fact use it all the time. "Of course I do. Almost every day. Keeps the Kool-Aid nice and cold."

He sighs happily. "Man, do I miss you."

"I'll be home soon," I glance up towards the drawn curtains, "you know I always come back."

I hear rustling on the other end. Every atom inside of me is begging him not to open the curtains. If someone has been watching us for months on end, there is no reason they wouldn't be now. It's the thrill of the chase that can trigger the unstoppable chain reaction, and the chase has begun. Even if they aren't in person and watching, they must have cameras or recording equipment somewhere. A stranger taking photos from trees or an inconspicuous vehicle is hard to miss.

I glance in the mirrors to see if I can catch a glimpse of any secret cameras or white vans, but I don't see anything. Not yet, at least. Someone will slip up eventually, and it won't be me or anybody at the station.

"I know, I know. Where are you? How did your thing go? Got a good case?"

Oh, if only he knew. "Just about to leave the crime scene. Everything was wrapped up pretty quickly." That second part is the truth. All we had to move was a mini fridge filled with a decently lightweight severed head. I don't think I should cough up any specifics for now, and not just because I don't want to freak him out.

The curtains don't part. I hear his bare feet tapping around the bathroom tile. "Okay. Whatever is closest to wherever you are is alright. I'm not too picky when it comes to breakfast. Just no meat or anything, please."

"I know, my wonderful vegetarian. I'll see you soon?"

The shower starts in the background and I feel like I can breathe again. I feel secure knowing that there are no cameras inside, especially with the curtains and blinds drawn all around the house. It's his morning ritual to go around and open them all up. He also disables the alarm system as soon as he goes downstairs. If someone had planted bugs in our home, we would have known.

"Alright." He says. "Love you."

"Love you too."

I back out of the driveway and pray he'll still be there when I return.