Follow Me(76)

Cold reality drenched me as I realized what that meant: Max had been taking surreptitious photos of me long before we met. Max had been watching me. Max had been stalking me.

I shot out of bed and fumbled for my clothing. My limbs shook as I stepped back into my jeans, pulled my shirt over my head. Max is stalking me. All those times I’d heard someone in the alley, all those times I’d thought someone was behind me . . . it had been Max. Jesus, what if he had been the one in my apartment, too?

I checked the time on my phone, trying to judge how long he had been gone. How long would it take him to pick up our usual order of pad thai and papaya salad and return to the apartment? I had to get out of there before he returned. In a panic, I closed the folder and replaced the laptop where I found it, and then grabbed my bag and began shoving my loose belongings into it: my laptop, my wallet, my sunglasses.

Just get out of there! my brain screamed at me. Leave your stuff behind!

I was halfway to the door before I paused. I looked back into his familiar apartment, noticing the empty LaCroix can I’d left on the counter, the Atlantic Max had been reading last night splayed on the arm of the couch. The door to his bedroom stood open, his soft bed with its sheets probably still warm from my body heat just beyond it. Ted and the Honey continued playing from his laptop, as though I hadn’t just discovered something life changing and horrible on it. How could everything still seem so normal?

Max is the stalker.

I raced out of his apartment, opening the Lyft app as I did so. I hesitated when it asked my destination. I couldn’t go home. Home wasn’t safe. Besides, it was the first place Max would think to look for me. I plugged in Cat’s address. Cat would help me. I could always count on her.





CHAPTER FIFTY





CAT


As I carried the pale pink nail polish to Monet’s station, my phone buzzed for the fifth time. I glanced down to see Audrey’s name on my caller ID once more.

Maybe I should answer, I thought. Something must be wrong for her to call this many times in a row.

But just as quickly, I reminded myself of all the times in college that Audrey had acted like the sky was falling when she and Nick had had a quarrel. She’d probably had some minor spat with Max. If I came running every time Audrey called, I would never get anything done. And, with the Phillips trial fast approaching, I had a lot that needed to get done.

I sank into the chair opposite Monet and turned on its vibrating massage feature. I wasn’t going to let Audrey and whatever was going on with Max ruin my weekly ritual, my one chance to unwind.

“This color again?” Monet said, clucking her tongue. “What is it this time? A client?”

“I’m going to New York for a trial next week,” I said with no small amount of pride. “I’m actually going to be making an argument in court.”

“Well, look at you!” she exclaimed, holding up her hand for a high five. I laughed and slapped her palm. This was more of a reaction than I’d gotten from Audrey when I’d relayed that same news to her. I’d had to do it over text message, since she couldn’t be bothered to disentangle herself from Max for more than two seconds, and she’d responded by “liking” my message. She hadn’t even taken the time to type “Congratulations.” I’d stared at the phone, waiting for something else, some sort of personal message, but none was forthcoming.

As Monet began to remove last week’s polish, my phone went off again. I apologized and reached to silence it, noticing the text on its screen as I did so: CAT PLEASE ANSWER OMW TO YOUR PLACE HELP I NEED YOU.

I hesitated. What if Audrey really did need me? What if she’d learned something more about the person who had been in her apartment? Or if she’d had some sort of other encounter? Doubt gnawed at my stomach, and I realized that my nail appointment was already ruined.

I sighed and pulled out my wallet. “I’m sorry to do this, but I’m going to have to reschedule.”

Monet’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. I didn’t blame her; it was the first time in six years that I had canceled on her like this. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m sure everything’s fine. One of my friends just needs to be talked down from a ledge.”

? ? ?

AUDREY WAS WAITING on the steps outside my building when I arrived home, and she looked terrible. Her face, devoid of makeup other than smudgy, leftover eyeliner, looked almost gray, and her eyes were glassy and wide. I immediately felt guilty for not answering her earlier calls.

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head violently and drew her arms more tightly across her chest, as though she had to physically hold herself together. I hurried her into the apartment and poured her a glass of water, which she ignored.

“What’s going on?”

She swallowed hard and turned frightened, wet eyes to me. “Max has photos of me.”

I sipped my own water, waiting for more. Audrey papered the internet with images of herself; of course her boyfriend had some.

“Photos of me,” she repeated significantly, as if that might help me understand. “On his computer.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“No, Cat. Not okay. He has photos he shouldn’t have.”

“Oh!” I said, my cheeks burning as I suddenly caught what she was saying. “You mean he has intimate photos.”