“Resa, listen to me. Have you checked your apartment?”
“Yes. Nothing’s out of place. I don’t think anybody’s been inside.”
“Good. Leave the note where it is. Call 911, and stay there with all the doors locked. Don’t open the door to anyone until the police get there. I’m on my way.”
“Archer? Hurry.”
“Stay put, Resa.”
He pocketed his phone, patted his jacket pocket to assure himself that the envelope was still there, and climbed back into his car.
On the way he called Clint and told him what Resa had told him. Clint said he’d meet the 911 team there.
Twenty-one long minutes later, Archer pulled up to the entrance to Resa’s apartment complex. A uniformed officer he didn’t know was stationed at the gate. Archer flashed his ID and explained that he was working on the Lock Rapist case as an independent investigator with Detective Banes.
The officer nodded. Clint had cleared him. He waved him through.
Ahead of him, Archer saw several parked police vehicles. He pulled up behind one and scanned the breezeways of the nearest apartment building. On the second floor, the front apartment’s lights blazed, spotlighting an officer standing at the door.
He sprinted up the stairs. When he entered the apartment, he saw Resa sitting in a dining-room chair, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes wide, her face pale. She saw him and her shoulders relaxed visibly.
Across the room, Clint glanced up from examining the inside of the windowsill. He gave Archer a slight nod, glanced at Resa, then went back to his job.
A kid who looked like a college student except for the badge pinned to his belt was balanced precariously on a tiny, non-functional fake balcony under the window and dusting the outside sill.
Archer reined in the urge to yell at the kid to watch where he parked his butt. This wasn’t his case, he reminded himself. It was his ex-partner’s.
Instead, he went over and knelt down beside Resa’s chair. She reached out to him, her green eyes searching his face. After an instant’s hesitation, he took her hand.
“I’m not sure they can decide if he was inside or not. Detective Banes said he could have slipped the note under the windowsill from the inside.” Her voice quavered. “He thinks the Lock Rapist has been inside.”
She squeezed his fingers and it took a lot of willpower not to wince.
“You did the right thing—almost. You got the phone calls backward.” He gave her a little smile. “You should have called 911 first, then called me.”
She nodded miserably. “You were the first person I thought of.”
That surprised him. He frowned. The idea that she’d thought of him first scared him. Being someone’s first choice in a crisis was the last thing he wanted. All he wanted was to be left alone.
The envelope in his jacket pocket burned his skin through the layers of fabric—a painful reminder that being left alone was no longer a choice. He was involved.
“Hey, you did good.”
She pulled her hand free of his. Her fingers intertwined in her lap. Their knuckles turned white. He had an unwanted urge to touch her again. To untangle her fingers and rub them until warmth spread through them and up to put color back into her face.
He glanced at Clint, who was still involved in the evidence gathering.
“Resa,” he said quietly. “Did you touch the note?”
“No,” she said. “You told me not to.”
“Could you read it?”
She nodded, pressing her lips together tightly.
“Tell me what it said.”
She shut her eyes. Tears squeezed out between her closed lids. “It said, ‘You can’t shut me out. I’ll get you.’”
He stood and patted her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
He stepped through the front door onto the concrete balustrade that connected the apartments.
“Hey, bud,” he said to the young officer at the door. “Got a glove on you?”
“Sure, Detective.” The officer dug in his pocket and pulled out a latex-free exam glove.
Archer took it and stretched it over his hand, then he retrieved the envelope from his pocket and slid the scrap of paper out of it.
Detective Archer. You’re not as smart as you think you are. I’m looking forward to Theresa Wade. Think she’ll be as good as her sister was? Or your wife? I’m pleased to be working with you again. If you release these two notes to the media, I might give you a break.
“Son of a—”
“Geoff.” Clint appeared at his side. “What’s that?”
He put the note inside the envelope and handed it to his ex-partner. “Resa’s not the only one who got a note tonight.”
Clint pulled the envelope open and peeked inside. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “It is the Lock Rapist.”
“That’s right. Now do you think you can put a guard on her?”
Clint sent Archer a frustrated look. “Don’t you think I wish I could? I don’t want any more attacks. But we’re past stretched to the max. The president is on his way down here tomorrow to present some award to the Tennessee Valley Authority, so almost all my men are working double duty.”
“She’s in danger, Clint.”
His ex-partner’s green eyes darkened. “I understand that. I’m hoping I can free up an officer within a couple of days.”
“A couple of days? What’s she supposed to do in the meantime?”
“Come on, Geoff. What do you want me to do? I can’t pull a babysitter out of thin air.”
Archer felt frustration rise up in him like bile. “Damn it, Clint.”
“You’re so worried, why don’t you keep her?”
“Me?” He laughed harshly.
“Sure. Let her stay with you until I can free somebody up.”
“No. No way.”
“Okay, then yeah, I guess she will be on her own.”
He glared at Clint. “That’s unacceptable. Okay. Hell, why not? I’ll take her home with me. She’s already there till all hours of the night anyhow.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re not really considering it. You
