Jackson stared. “In broad daylight?”

“Yeah.”

Jackson pulled out the card and saw the inscription “Happy Birthday, my darling. David.”

He slipped the card back into the envelope and looked at Shaye. Her expression reflected everything he was thinking—this was bad. Whoever was after Emma Frederick was crafty and cruel, and seemed to have no fear of discovery. The more unpredictable, the more dangerous.

“I assume Ms. Frederick is staying somewhere else?” he asked.

“She’s been staying in a hotel since the night he broke into her house. Given that he found her at the shop in Bywater, I had her change hotels yesterday. She probably burned a tank of gas driving around before checking in, just to make sure no one was following her.” Shaye tapped her fingers on the table. “He’s not going to stop. Not until she’s dead.”

“I know.”

“Is there anything you can do about it?”

He knew the question was coming. Had known it since he’d heard about the car battery and the scarf. “Not officially. Not until there’s some sort of threat.”

He didn’t blame Shaye for the disgusted look she gave him. At the moment, he felt the same way.

Shaye shook her head. “You and I both know that everything I just told you is a threat. Hell, he’s coming right out and telling Emma he can get to her any time he wants to.”

“The law doesn’t see it that way, and even if we could convince other people that everything Emma says is the gospel, we have no idea who this person is. We can’t arrest a shadow.” He blew out a breath. “How much do you know about David Grange?”

“Very little. I tried the usual Internet searches, but it returned sixteen thousand matches. I went through a couple hundred pages before giving up. The images were the same.”

He nodded. “We checked for a criminal record when Emma filed her report on the assault and it came up clean. I imagine a person like Grange would keep a low profile. I wouldn’t expect to find him posting selfies on Twitter or anything.”

“I didn’t really have an expectation that I’d find anything, but I had to try.”

Jackson ran one hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “Look, there’s nothing I can do in a professional capacity…not on the record, anyway. But let me see if I can run down anything on David Grange—brothers, cousins.”

“That’s my plan for the day. I’ve got a meeting with his former boss in an hour, but if you can find out something, I won’t turn down the help.”

“It’s a long shot, but I’ll give it a whirl. I might not be able to get to it until this evening, though. If Vincent catches me helping you, he’ll have me demoted.”

“For helping a woman being stalked?”

“For helping someone without hard evidence, especially the woman who cut him off at the knees and got him razzed by rookies for an hour.”

She gave him a rueful look. “At least that’s something. So he’s really that big of a douche bag?”

“And then some. He’s been looking for a way to take me down a peg ever since they assigned me to him. So far, he’s managed to submarine my career through inactivity. If I gave him a reason to cause me more grief, he would take it in a heartbeat.”

“Why don’t you complain to his superior?”

“I’m the new guy. Maybe when I’ve been there a couple years, and if my nose is clean, someone will listen. But right now, the old guys see me as a new face that probably won’t last long. A lot of guys do a turn in New Orleans, then move on to the suburbs for less stress and a higher paycheck.”

Shaye frowned. “I owe you an apology.”

“How do you figure?”

“I’ve been judging you unfairly. My mother is a social worker, so I hear all about the politics of government work. I wasn’t extrapolating that same set of nonsense to police work. It was shortsighted of me.”

“The politics are the most frustrating part of my job.”

“My mother’s as well, and that’s saying a lot in both cases given what you do. Anyway, I appreciate any information you can provide, but I don’t want you to risk your job or your reputation in doing it.”

“There’s way more at stake than my job.”

Shaye’s expression darkened. “Yeah.”

“Remember when I told you to be careful? I’m telling you again. I’d bet anything he saw you at Ms. Frederick’s house. If he thinks you’re in the way…”

“I had a cover…interior decorator, complete with sample books. But I’m being careful. I’m always careful.”

He nodded, but her assertion didn’t do anything to lessen the nagging dread that was starting to consume him. Given her past, Shaye Archer was probably one of the most careful women in New Orleans. But she still wasn’t any match for a psychopath.

Especially an unknown one.

Chapter Ten

Emma rushed across the hospital parking lot to the entrance. She’d parked in the visitor area, and if anyone had a problem with it, they could kiss her ass. If someone insisted she park in the garage with the other employees, she’d give them her two minutes’ notice. She’d been struggling with the decision all morning at the hotel. She’d had room service for breakfast and lunch, too scared to leave her room, all the time dreading going to work because the hospital was the easiest place to find her.

When she entered the hospital, she headed straight for the security office and was relieved to see Jeremy watching the monitors. He looked up as she entered and smiled. “Afternoon, Ms. Frederick. You get your car looked at?”

“Yes. I wanted to thank you again for getting it running. I took it to the mechanic yesterday.”

“They get you back to a hundred percent?”

“Yes, but that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The mechanic said there was practically no chance the terminal came off accidentally.”

Jeremy frowned. “He thinks it was deliberate? But who would do that?”

“I’ve been having some trouble since David…anyway, I think someone’s following me, trying to scare me.”

Jeremy straightened in his seat, clearly concerned. “If someone’s bothering you, then you need to go to the police.”

“I have, and there’s nothing they can do. There’s been no threat, and I have no idea who it is. But I’m not interested in becoming a victim in order for them to have a clue.”

“Of course not!”

“Anyway, all of this is to say that I parked in the visitor’s section in front of the building, so please don’t have me towed.”

Jeremy nodded. “And don’t you go walking out to that car without me.”

“I won’t. Thank you.”

“Be careful, Ms. Frederick.”

Emma nodded and headed out of the security office. She was so preoccupied that when she rounded the corner into the hallway, she almost ran right into a bouquet of flowers.

“Oh,” she said as she drew up short, then took a step back. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay,” a voice said, and the flowers lowered.

A man’s face emerged and his eyes widened. “Emma?”

She slowed her racing mind long enough to focus on the man with the flowers. “Stephen. It’s been a long time.”

She’d dated Stephen for three years of high school. He was the only child of one of New Orleans’s “good” families and had a bright future ahead of him following in his father’s footsteps as a lawyer. He was good-looking, popular, and intelligent, but he’d been more invested in their relationship than Emma. When she got word of her college scholarship in Dallas, Stephen had begged her to stay, even said he’d marry her, which probably would have sent his highbrow parents over the edge. But aside from knowing she wasn’t remotely ready to be a wife, Emma also wasn’t convinced that Stephen was “the one.”

The breakup had been heart-wrenching. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him and had been surprised with how badly he’d taken her rejection of the marriage proposal, but over the summer, his feelings cooled and they were on decent terms when she left for school. He even helped her pack her car. They’d stayed in touch by email for six months or so, then as most college students do, they got involved in their campus lives, and communication got less frequent until it finally stopped altogether.