It's an empty threat. I don't even have a phone in my apartment. And looking down to my pockets, there's no bulging cell phone greeting me back. I must have left it in the van when I rushed inside.

"I'm calling the police right now," I scream.

Silence.

I rush to the front door and turn on the lights. One by one, I go through each room and check it. By the time I'm done, I'm positive that anyone from outside can see me walking around the apartment with a flimsy remote in hand.

I don't care at this rate, but I make a mental note to buy a baseball bat tomorrow.

I make my way to the back of the apartment toward my bedroom. It's the only room left and my heart is beating so hard that I can hear the dull thump in my ears. I lick my lips for a moment and get myself ready, fingers clutching the doorknob. After a deep breath, I rush inside and yell. The lights flicker on.

Nothing.

Well, that isn't entirely true. Scattered around the floor and all over my bed are all of my panties. The remote drops from my hand and I look at the drawers that have been flung across the room. There is no way to make any sense of it. There is no rhyme or reason to any of it, but whoever was here took their time.

I bend over and pick up every piece of underwear, taking note of the ones that I find. When I'm done, I figure there are at least two or three pairs that are missing. Ones that I had worn the last couple days.

I shut the window near my computer desk and sit down. A icon on the computer screen beeps to let me know there are waiting emails. I double click it. If my jaw could dislocate, it would be hitting the table right now and rolling on the floor.

There are three new emails from an address I don't recognize. Someone that goes by the user name "ICU03051988".

I bring a hand to my mouth, stifling a scream that I 'm sure will come at any point. Those weren't just random numbers.

That's my birthday.

Instinctively, I look around the room. An uneasy feeling of being watched runs through me. I don't feel safe in here.

Although, I know that there's nobody in the apartment with me. I've checked every room. I open each of the emails and try to make sense of the ramblings.

Most of it is just gibberish about how he or she enjoys my artwork. The last line of the last email rocks me to my core. It makes me want to throw my monitor across the room.

"You looked lovely tonight in that black dress and red heels. I'm going to enjoy thinking of you now that I have your unmentionables. Can't wait to visit again. Until next time. XOXO, ICU03051988"

I close the laptop and run to my bed, throwing the covers over my head like when I was a kid. Every breath that I take sends the loose fabric into the air. I lay there for what seems like hours, trying to remember every person that was at the gallery tonight.

There's no use. I met too many people and the only person I remember seeing is Jean. Everyone else is just a blend of faces.

Nothing that could help me. Nobody notable that stood out. And that's probably what scares me the most.

That's when I remember him.

Arthur.

He is the only face that I can picture clearly inside of my head. He's the one that had got a good look at my clothes. He's the only one that could gain something from this.

Maybe, in some sic, perverted way, he's trying to win me over with this.

I lower the bed sheets and look around the room, trying to take in everything I see.

Could King do something like this?

I hadn't seen in him in years, and when I left Long Island he was getting himself involved with some shady people.

Could he have learned some new tricks from some of them? Some perverted way of trying to win me back?

Chapter 3.

My fingers rush across the phone screen as I let the police officers out of the apartment. One of them turns around and holds out his card. "If you have any new information or remember anything else about last night, don't hesitate to call." He tilts his police cap and hustles down the stairs to his partner. I wait until they're out the front door before dialing Marina, my sister.

The phone rings and I lay out on the sofa, massaging my temple. I just spent the last couple hours going through every excruciating detail of last night. The policemen assured me that it was vital to the investigation. Every face and name that I could remember they jotted down. I told them everything that I could recall, except the part about meeting my ex-boyfriend King at his garage.

I don't know why I covered for him. He doesn't deserve it, as far as I'm concerned. I flip the officer's business card in my hand, running my finger along the etchings.

I could always call them back when I draw a line about King's involvement in this. The idea that King could be involved in this is unsettling. Part of me wants to believe that he wouldn't do something like this, the other remembers the hurt he brought me four years ago. Only time will tell at this point.

I'm not going to do anything about it for now. At least, not until I hear what my sister thinks.

"Cami!" Marina's voice breaks through the silence. I bring the cell phone closer to my ear and listen to her shout at the kids in the background. "Long time no talk."

Marina and I had just reopened lines of communication in the last year. When I left Long Island, we weren't really on speaking terms.

At the time, she didn't agree with me breaking up with King. Made me feel like I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Almost had me do a u-turn back home when I was halfway to Portland, her words in the back of my mind.

Lucky for me, I went through with it. And in the process of moving away from home, I lost a boyfriend and a sister. That is until Marian found out that her husband, Robert, had been cheating on her for the better part of their marriage.

When that happened, she saw the error in her ways. She was the one to break the three years of no communication. Not that I minded.

Portland was getting lonely without any friends. I welcomed having her voice of reason back in my life. The better part of the first month was her sending me care packages and apology letters, but I let bygones be bygones. There was no reason to hold a grudge on her. She had worse problems to deal with back home.

Last I heard, Robert was trying to get custody of the kids and the house she was living in. Marina had to hire a lawyer to get it all squared away, and even then she was barely pulling through. Raising twins and trying to get a full time career, after being a stay at home mom for the last eight years, was more than she could have ever bargained for.

"Sorry about that. Life's been a little hectic lately." I look down at the corner of the living room table, where the soda can had been the night before. The cops had taken it with them.

It was the only real evidence that they could find in the whole apartment. They had spent hours doing evidence work, combing every inch of the house with a fluorescent light and picking up strands of hair. Lucky for me, whoever was in my apartment wasn't the brightest light bulb.

The cops managed to pull a DNA sample from the lip of the can, a bit of his saliva still on it. They're hoping that with the DNA sample, they can get a hit within their database. The only bad thing is that it could take weeks to find out.

Something to do with the fact that I'm not in any imminent danger and there's a backlog for testing DNA. All I could do was roll my eyes and try not to complain too much.

"Tyler, don't you dare climb any higher," Marina yells, and I can't help but laugh. If it wasn't for those two little boys, she would have been a total mess by now. That's the only thing her husband Richard has done right with her as far as I'm concerned. "So, what's up?"

"I don't know if I should bother you. You seem to have your hands tied right now with the boys." I flick the police card across the room and walk to the kitchen. I pour myself a cup of coffee with only two lumps of sugar.

"This isn't anything out of the ordinary. It's just a little more busy since Robert's moved out." There's hurt in her voice.

"How much longer before you get control of everything?"

"My lawyer says that it shouldn't take much longer. Just need Robert to sign the divorce paper. Which of course he doesn't want to. He wants to work it out and make it better." I could practically see her roll her eyes. "But there's no way that can ever happen. Not after all the women he fucked."

"Mommy said a bad word," the boys scream behind her.

"Yeah and Mommy's going to have to donate to the curse jar now." The boys hoot and holler on the other end. "So, what's up with you?"

I bite my lip, knowing full well that once she finds out, Marina will go into full mom mode. Offers of coming to live with me until they catch the stalker and take care of me would fall from her lips. All things that I want to hear, but can't handle right now. The idea of having Marina mixed up in all of this is not a good one. If anything ever happened to any of her kids, because of something I did, I would never be able to live with myself.

"Now don't get angry with me, but something happened last night," I stutter out, feeling like I'm just about to confess something to my parents.

So I tell her the whole story.

"And that's why I think it might be King who was in my apartment last night." I jump off the couch, rolling my head around my shoulders. It had taken a good two hours to get through everything about the last couple months.

The whole time, Marian played 21 questions with me. Acting more like the police officers that had left my house than my sister. Being a police officer might not be a bad route for her, it seems to come natural with her questioning behavior.

She's short, and sturdy, and can be a real fireball when she wants to be. Hell, she managed to raise both her little boys by herself while her husband went on supposed business trips half the year.

I hold the cell phone up with my shoulder, needing her sisterly advice more than ever. Only there's silence on the other end. Now that she's gotten all the answers to her questions, she's going through every possible scenario in her head. Probably even biting down on her nails thinking it through. .

"You don't agree?" I grab a cupcake from the lower drawer and peel the paper wrapping. Red velvet, my favorite.

I let myself take the icing off the top and slowly work my way to the batter. It's the simple things in life that matter. This is totally going to fuck with my diet, but I figure after the shit I've been through the last day, a little cheat meal is the least of my worries.

An ex boyfriend and a stalker in my life is more than I can handle right now.

Marina lets out a sigh that would blow me away if I were next to her. "I don't know. That just doesn't seem like King's style. Growing up, he was always the one who was straight-forward and didn't play games like this. Are you sure it's not someone from one of your classes?"

My nostrils flare and my head grows warm. If I was in a cartoon right now there would be steam coming out of my ears. She can't be serious right now. Right?

"Didn't you also doubt that he was cheating on me when I went to you for advice last time? Look how that turned out!" The words leave my mouth before I can fully understand what I'm saying.

Silence.

I shove the cupcake into my mouth before I can say anything else. I can picture Marina bitting down on her bottom lip, taking in my words, and holding back tears. I want to apologize, but her voice crackles on the other end.

"I've got to go. Tyler is climbing the spruce tree in the backyard again. I'll talk to you later."

"Marina, I'm sorr," I say, but there's no answer on the other line. She hung up on me.

I slam the phone down on the counter top. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid," I mumble over and over, a hand hitting the sides of my head.

Well, there goes one of the only friends that I have left. I throw the cupcake wrapper into the trashcan, her words about King still at the forefront of my mind.

There's some truth to what she had to say. King was never one to play around when we were together. He was always forward with me. At least, that's what I thought.

The thought of King with another girl makes my stomach hurt. I open the fridge and push another cupcake into my mouth. My taste buds take in every flavor, letting me forget about King for a moment.

Chapter 4.

I lean against the door-frame watching, Tommy install the new locks. It's the only way that I can feel safe in my own home anymore. The police said that there was no sign of forced entry through the front door, so someone must have the key to my place.

"I'm just about done here," Tommy says, his bad breath hitting me like a wave. I put on my best smile and just nod, not wanting to engage him for too long. When I met Tommy there was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way. But my instincts have been pretty shitty lately so I hired him anyway.

He is tall and gawky. He has a big nose that he sniffles every two seconds instead of blowing it, acne that covers his cheeks, and a black hoodie and jeans that are two sizes too big for him.

I keep my distance and watch him work. I try not to judge him too much. After all, I lucked out and saw his "locksmith for hire" poster outside my apartment on a telephone pole. It was almost destined to be.

The front door to the apartment building opens, and I casually look in the that way, wondering which of my neighbors it could be. When I see who it is, I almost slip away from the wall and try to scamper into my apartment. I want to close the door before he sees me, but I forget that Tommy's still putting the final touches on the door. So there's nowhere for me to run, I have to face him.

"Cami, you can't just keep running away from me," King yells, his voice booming down the narrow hallway. Like a cornered mouse, I pace between Tommy and King. Unsure of where to go.

"I'm all done here," Tommy announces and grabs his toolbox off the floor. He hands me his card and practically sprints down the hallway. He must feel the discomfort between King and me. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who can handle these kinds of situations well, and I don't blame him.

At the top of the stairs, Tommy bumps into King's shoulder, the toolbox falling out of his hand and down the stairs. There's a loud thud at the bottom.

Tommy looks at King for a moment, then at me, before getting his pudgy body down the stairs. King's eyes follow him for a moment, but I'm already inside the apartment, ready to close the door on him.

The door is inches away from closing when King's black motorcycle boots butt through the small crack. I push on the frame, making sure to leave a buff mark in his precious boots, before looking up into those glowing blue stars of his.

"Can you not?" I say, trying my hardest to push him away from the door. All that does is let me feel the tautness of his chest. My palm slides down his favorite black motorcycle jacket, the one he wore back when I dated him, and stops at his belt buckle. His face breaks into a gloating smile and he gives me a little wink, thrusting his hips toward me.

"Moving a little fast, aren't you?" he says, stifling back a laugh. My face gets red hot and I pull away, letting the door swing wide open.

I shake my head from side to side, his footsteps bouncing off the wooden floor behind me. "Guess I'll just let myself in." He shuts the door and takes in my apartment, letting out a little whistle to show that he's impressed.

I grab a coffee mug from a handle that hangs over the sink and pour myself a cup. This coffee was supposed to be for Tommy and me, but he rushed out of here before I could get him one.

The only sound in the apartment is from my spoon as I hit it against the inside of the mug. Extra sugar and cream. Something tells me that this is going to be a longer day than I wanted. I need to get back to my work, but life can't stop throwing curve balls at me.

"So, did you see how he looked at me?" He pulls a stool up and tosses his leg over it, bringing out a thick bulge on the side of his thigh. I bite down on my lip and remember what lies underneath those riding pants of his.

I hadn't thought of King's package in a long time.

I shake my head. "Who?" I take a long sip of my coffee and pretend that I'm looking at something on the ground before bringing my eyes up to him. There's a smirk on his face, but he doesn't say anything.