I paused in my pacing and grabbed my phone to start planning everything I’d need to do to avoid detection.

I’d have to turn the thermostat down to sell the lie about being chilly. I’d need to move my laptop into the living room and work from there instead of on my desktop. And I’d definitely need to swap the Utah dad I’d framed for someone within driving distance if I was going to pretend to track myself down.

My fingers flew over my phone as I made a list in the note app. I was nothing if not organized.

By the time I had it all written out in front of me, I felt marginally better. This wasn’t a total disaster, and on the plus side, I’d have a reason to spend time with Aly, learn more about her, and get a better read on what she thought about the situation I’d dragged her into.

I slipped my phone into my pocket when I was done, still feeling jittery. I had to get out of there and clear my head.

A glance at my computer showed me the sound monitor tied to Aly’s laptop was still measuring noise, so she hadn’t closed it. I sent the feed to my tablet, grabbed that along with my keys and wallet, pulled on sweatpants and a jacket, and headed out.

I connected the tablet to my car speakers through Bluetooth as the engine roared to life and I waited for the heat to kick on, listening in as Aly moved about her house. Just in case she walked into her bedroom, I set my phone in its dashboard holder and pulled up the feed for the hidden camera.

Mobile stalking unit: activated.

I felt proud of myself for all of a second before I realized what a creep this probably made me. Despite knowing I should feel guilty and wrong for what I was doing, I didn’t. All I could drum up was a slight hint of regret, but even that didn’t make me want to stop. At this point, only law enforcement or Aly telling me to fuck off would be enough to put an end to my behavior.

I hoped.

Twenty minutes later, I was driving past Aly’s house for the second time, laughing to myself as she spammed my DMs. My first present had arrived, and she was not amused.

Flowers? she asked. You bought me fucking flowers after breaking into my house?

Also, what the hell am I supposed to do with an entire floral shop???

These delivery men are telling me that it’s against policy for them to take them back since they’ve been paid for.

If you meant this as an apology, you failed.

I’m madder at you now than I was last night.

That last statement piqued my interest. She was more annoyed by flowers than a home invasion? Yup, Aly was fucked up, and she probably didn’t even realize how much her comments revealed because she was still trying to convince herself she didn’t want this.

I longed to say something back to her, but I wasn’t responding to anything because it might come too close to an admission of guilt.

“I don’t have anywhere else to put these,” Aly said, loud enough that both the microphone on her laptop and the one attached to the camera in her bedroom picked it up.

The delivery man’s response was muffled.

“No, I know that’s not your problem, but come on,” she said.

My amusement faded. Was he being rude to her?

Keep driving, stupid, I told myself. I couldn’t pull over and teach him a lesson about politeness right now. That would ruin everything. But maybe I could figure out who these guys were and find some digital way to show them the error of their ways.

“How about this,” Aly said. “Take them to the nurses’ station at Prescott Memorial.”

The response was muffled again.

“Fifty bucks to drive them ten minutes away?” she said. “Are you serious?”

I grimaced. Well, this was backfiring.

A heavy sigh came through the speakers as I parked a street away from hers. “Let me get my wallet,” I heard her say.

I yanked my phone from its dock just in time to watch her stomp into her bedroom, looking pissed. Fred was lying curled up in a ball on her comforter, nonplussed at all the noise.

Aly grabbed her wallet from her handbag and paused long enough to scratch Fred between the ears. “I hope you bit the Faceless Man.”

Fred made a little chirruping noise in response. I chose to interpret that as him defending my character. Weren’t pets supposed to have some sixth sense and could always tell the good people from the bad? He hadn’t so much as hissed at me. In fact, he wouldn’t leave me alone the whole time I was there, and I eventually had to shut him out of Aly’s room so I could film in peace. I took that as a sign that I wasn’t as damned as I thought, and a little light, okay, heavy stalking wasn’t enough to condemn me.

Aly paid the delivery driver and shut her front door hard enough that my speakers rattled.

Great, she typed a minute later. On top of being a pain in the ass and way over the top, your gift just cost me fifty bucks.

I slid down in my seat, wishing I could apologize but knowing I shouldn’t. Oh, wait. Didn’t Aly have a payment app? I pulled one of my anonymous accounts up on the tablet and found her on the app, sending her fifty bucks via the same stolen credit card I’d used to buy the flowers.

Seriously? she asked. You think that makes up for all this hassle?

I drummed my fingers against the dashboard, frustrated about my inability to communicate with her. I almost brought my burner phone, but I’d left it behind, telling myself it was too early to text her from it.

A loud ding-dong came from my speakers. Her doorbell? I pulled up my tracking app, and sure enough, my other gifts had just arrived.

I heard a door open and then, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to deliver a package to Alyssa Cappellucci?” a man said, mangling her last name.

She didn’t bother to correct him. “I’m she.”

“Sign here?” he said.

“But I didn’t order anything.”

“So, you’re refusing delivery?”

“Uh…no?” she said.

“Then please sign here.”

“Who sent this?”

“No idea,” was the response. “We don’t get that information. Do you want the package or not?”

“Fine, yeah.”

It got quiet for a minute, and I assumed she was signing.

“Here you go,” the man said. “Have a good day.”

The front door closed again, and I heard more muffled sounds.

My phone pinged a second later.

Did you send me something?

Several somethings, but she’d figure that out soon enough.

It better not be a bomb, or I’m coming back as a poltergeist and finding some way to ghost-murder you.

I grinned. Aly was just as snarky as her thirsty comments made her out to be, and I was here for it.

Suddenly, she appeared on my phone screen as she entered her room. She went straight to Fred, scooped him up, and put him in her bathroom.

“Sorry, bud,” she said. “But you have to stay here. Mom is about to do something stupid, and I don’t want you to get hurt if this goes sideways.”

She shut the door on his protesting meow and left her room.

I tried to drum up some remorse as I leaned forward in my seat and listened to her open the packages, but I was too excited. Plus, I knew it wasn’t a bomb. Obviously.

“What the –” she said. “What is all this? Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

My phone pinged, and I immediately opened her messages.

You sent me home defense tools?

After breaking into my house?

Are you serious right now???

Keep going, I wanted to tell her. On top of buying her burglar-proof wedges with built-in alarms that could be shoved beneath her doors, I’d gotten her titanium bars that braced against knobs way better than a chair could, extra locks that couldn’t be manipulated with magnets, and an entire in-home security system complete with cameras for her front and back doors.