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Table of Content
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Epilogue
Chapter One
Jessa
“‘And when I can make us one, we’ll be complete,’” Agent Harrison finished reading.
The FBI agent folded up the note and gave me a frown. The man was in about his mid forties with dark hair and only a brush of gray at his temples. From the back, he would’ve looked to have been twenty years younger. But his face was the dead giveaway. With tired eyes and frown lines etched deeply into his cheeks, he looked like a man who was perpetually put upon. And he was putting those frown lines to good use as he looked at me.
Sitting back in my hotel sofa, I tried my best to swallow my frustrated sigh and to still my eyes before they rolled. I had read the note already. Several times, in fact. I knew what it said.
I could see from the corner of my eye Agent Todd, sitting across from me on one of the printed wingback chairs, smothering a smile as if he could tell the extreme restraint I was trying to exert over my natural reactions to his more serious partner.
I looked at the folded note in Agent Harrison’s hand—another threatening and, quite frankly, creepy note from my stalker. This mysterious stalker had been dropping off notes threatening kidnapping and vague torture to various locations that were somehow related to me like my agent’s office, the front desk of the hotel I happened to be staying at that week, and once, inside the windshield wiper of the black SUV that drove me between engagements.
Although the notes certainly sounded threatening enough, I had lost my fear over such things years ago.
As one of the biggest actresses in Hollywood, I was known internationally. I had snagged my first major movie role at sixteen and it had launched me into superstardom. I was now twenty seven. In the intervening eleven years, I’d had countless stalkers and crazed fans try and breach my personal space.
I’d learned quickly that once you became a hot enough commodity, everyone wanted a piece of you. And I mean, everyone. I’ve had make up artists try and sneak a picture of me when I was sitting in their chairs, bare faced, so they could sell it to a tabloid for a pretty penny. I’ve had personal assistants who’ve slipped me their manuscripts within the first five minutes of working together.
What was one more stalker note?
But Agent Harrison and Todd seemed to think otherwise, especially Agent Harrison.
They had contacted my manager several weeks ago after I had received the second note. The FBI and I have had a close relationship over the years because of all the threatening notes I’ve received. Normally, they just simply increased security during my more high profile events like premiers and red carpet events.
But for some reason, they found this latest series of notes to be highly suspicious.
And highly dangerous.
“Well,” I said calmly, reaching to flip my hair off my shoulder in habit only to realize they were still in rollers, “it sounds like he rather likes me.”
Agent Todd couldn’t help but grin hearing that.
But Agent Harrison’s brow only creased further, making it look like he had a permanent dent in his forehead. Did the man never smile? I used to have a secret running joke with myself to see how many times I could make him grunt in dissatisfaction in one meeting.
My record was six.
“Miss Blair,” Agent Harrison started in his paternal and slightly patronizing voice, “do I need to remind you again how seriously we at the Bureau take this threat? And we take it on your behalf, I might remind you.”
That quickly sobered me up.
It was true. The men and women of the FBI have been carefully keeping tabs on all the crazed fans for me over the years. But I think after over a decade in the business, I could recognize a credible threat from a nonsense one.
Agent Todd, seeming to sense my distress, interjected, “Miss Blair, I know you’re frustrated with how much this can affect your day to day life. But I promise you, we’d like to figure out who this man is as much as you. And the quicker we do it, the quicker we can slink back out to the peripherals of your life.” He smiled gently at me.