But I couldn’t resist.
It was sitting there right in front of me.
I opened it.
And gasped. The folder was filled with pictures of Katie, shot from a wide angle lens from far away. Katie leaving her apartment. Katie coming out of a coffee shop. Katie walking into a bar, dressed in a halter top and tight black pants. Katie leaving Cutler and Associates. Katie ducking into a cab.
Whoever took the pictures must have been following her.
The back of each picture was marked with a date and a time.
I flipped through the pictures, one after another, dozens of them. Finally, in the back of the file folder was a slim stack of printed out pages. Each one listed where Katie was at a certain time of day, right down to the minute and making note of the exact address.
Someone had been tracking her movements.
Someone wanted to know where she was, every second of every day. Someone was figuring out her routines, so they would know where she was.
It must have been Noah.
I sat there, the horrible realization washing over me.
I had thought I could trust him.
But the truth was, I couldn’t.
I couldn’t run from the truth any longer. Noah was a murderer. And the sooner I got away from him, the better.