Page 37 of Rune’s Solace

Sawyer rubbed both hands down the front of his jeans. “Then he was back today.”

That got something moving deep in my gut.

“Same guy,” he said. “Different jacket, which I don’t know why that made it worse, but it did. Same face, same build, same creepy standing-there-doing-absolutely-nothing routine. So today I watched him instead of pretending I wasn’t watching him, and that’s when I figured out the part I really don’t like.”

“What part.”

His eyes flicked toward my bike, then back to me. “He knows about you.”

I went colder.

“Maybe not you you. I don’t know. But he knows you’re watching her, because every time you had a clean view, he disappeared. Every single time. Car between you, pillar, crowd, building, whatever he could use. Then you’d turn or move and there he was again, always where he could see Amy and you couldn’t see him.” Sawyer blew out a breath and shook his head. “I spent half of today checking because I thought maybe I was making it into something it wasn’t, but I’m not. He was working your blind spots. Deliberately.”

Radiator.

The word came into my head cold.

“That’s not some creep who thinks she’s pretty,” Sawyer went on, and the jokes were gone now. “Guys like that want you to know they’re looking. This guy doesn’t want anybody to know he’s there. Especially you. And the way he watches her...” He stopped.

“What.”

Sawyer looked sick.

“Tell me.”

“Like she belongs to him.”

I didn’t move, but something must’ve changed in my face because Sawyer took a step back before he caught himself.

“How long.”

“I know about yesterday and today.”

“Know about.”

His mouth tightened. “Yeah. I know. That’s not the same as how long he’s actually been there.”

Smart kid.

Didn’t make me like him any better right then.

“She know she’s being followed?”

“No.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because she’s already — ” He made a helpless gesture with both hands. “Something happened to her. I don’t know what, she won’t tell me, she says it’s nothing, she’s been saying it’s nothing for days and she looks like she hasn’t slept in a week and I can see it, okay, I can see her white-knuckling something.”

That landed too close to what I’d seen in the garage.

“So ask her.”

Sawyer gave me a look. “Yeah, sure. Great idea. I’ll just sit Amy down and say, ’Hey, you seem deeply traumatized this week, care to unpack that over a scone?’ Why didn’t I think of that?”

There he was.

“Watch your mouth, kid.”