“But I swear the shutters twitched!” Dove was getting more and more hysterical each time she got ignored.

“The shutters twitched?” Nathaniel asked, raising an eyebrow. At first, he had wanted to believe Dove. She was a beautiful woman, all blonde hair and blue eyes, and a well-respected teacher. But now things were beginning to get ridiculous. Being paranoid once and calling the cops was understandable. It happened from time to time, Nate was told by some of the older officers. But this was far more than once. More than twice, in fact. The third call in a week. He had half a mind to stop answering them.

“Look, right here. This shutter wouldn’t move on its own. And—And there was a face. Look, you have to believe me. Someone is watching me. I can feel it.” She pointed to one of the dark green shutters, as if just their existence proved her point. Nate looked everywhere but the window, trying to convey his boredom. She had a small stack of books on an end table, each book containing a napkin bookmark, and a couple pairs of shoes set neatly in front of the couch.

Nate knew some cops operated by feeling, but he wasn’t one of those cops. He operated by evidence. There was no evidence anything was going on, so he had no reason to believe her. That was all there to it.

“Well, I think that’s all I need for my report, Mrs. Babcock,” he said.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Dove?”

“At least once more, Mrs. Babcock,” he responded in his most even, unaltered voice. He hoped that conveyed the boredom and annoyance he was feeling.

“Right,” she said, and Nathaniel showed himself to the door.

Dove locked the door behind him. Both locks, in fact. The click of the locks was solid and metallic, promising safety. She didn’t know that she trusted them, though. Even as the lock clicked in place, there was a temporary feeling behind them. She didn’t know how something could feel temporary, but it did. She wondered, not for the first time, if she was listening too much to her feelings. But there had been a face. She was certain. A male face, with short hair and a straight nose. She hadn’t really gotten a good look, but enough to know she didn’t know him, enough to know she didn’t want to.

She grabbed her phone. There wasn’t a point in calling the police again, no matter what she saw. Teressa, though, maybe she could help her. At the very least, she’d feel more safe with someone else at the house. She found the contact and pressed “call.” As it was ringing, she wondered exactly what she would say. She didn’t have much time to think about it before the woman picked up, though.

“Dove? You okay?” Teressa said when she answered.

“It happened again,” Dove explained, breathless.

“I’ll be right over,” Teressa said. She hung up. Dove wished she had stayed on the line. She didn’t think she had ever been so paranoid, even when it came to the monster under the bed in childhood. She needed someone with her every second, but she had no parent’s bed to crawl into.

Dove jumped when a car pulled up, but when she tentatively peeked out the window, it was just Teressa. She walked over and unlocked the door for her friend. “Thanks for coming,” she said, letting in her slim, naturally pretty friend.

“Of course. Jeff can handle the diner for a bit,” she said. “What happened?”

“He opened the shutter. I got a glimpse of him this time,” she explained, shivering.

“Enough to recognize him later?” Teressa asked.

“Maybe not. Enough to know I don’t recognize him.”

“Did you call the police again?”

“Yeah, but it was that Officer O’Bannon again. He doesn’t seem to care.” Dove didn’t exactly hate him—she knew he was just doing his job—but he didn’t even take her seriously. It would only make sense to be angry.

“The black guy with the big muscles and bald head?”

“That’s the one.”

“Maybe you should come stay with me for a few days,” Teressa suggested.

“I’m not letting him scare me out of my own home.” Dove tried to sound brave and confident, but in reality she was just afraid to put Teressa in danger. She wondered if maybe that was bravery of its own kind.

“So what do you want me to do?” Teressa asked.

“Just stay here for a bit,” she answered.

“I can—” Teressa started to say, but then there was a knock on the door. The women looked at each other, and Dove walked and tentatively unlocked the door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“Flower delivery,” a man answered. She opened the door. He held out a dozen red roses. The flowery smell hit her hard, and she saw drops of water on the petals. “Ms. Babcock?” he asked.

“That’s me,” she said, and signed on the clipboard offered. He turned and left. Dove shut and locked the door again, then glanced at the card. She dropped the flowers, creating a soft, mushy sound as they hit the hardwood floors.

“What is it?” Teressa asked.

Dove showed her the card. I see you. No name; just three simple words.

“We need to take this to the cops,” Teressa said, picking up the flowers.

Dove didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say.

Teressa put a hand on her arm. “Come on. It’s going to be okay. They’ll take you seriously now.” She began leading Dove to the door.

“What if they don’t?” Dove asked. “What if he’s out there?”

“Then I’ll protect you,” Teressa answered.

Dove let herself be led out of the house, then struggled with the keys to lock up. It clanged against the metal a couple of times, then slipped in before turning. She got both locks, then walked to the car.

“No, you’re upset,” Teressa said. “I’m driving.”

Dove knew better than to argue when Teressa knew what she wanted. She climbed in the passenger seat of the red four-door and buckled up mechanically. She wasn’t safe. That much was clear. She wasn’t safe, and no one believed her. She barely breathed, but didn’t find herself panicking. She was too shocked even for that.

“Do you think it’s Harold?” Teressa asked.

“No, we got divorced years ago. You’d think he’d be over it. Besides, I’d definitely recognize him.”

“Oh yeah. Well, maybe he hired someone to scare you.”

“You think so?” Dove asked. It was true that Harold wasn’t exactly over it. Still, what reason would he have to scare her? Just because he could?

They pulled up to the police station. It was a large brick building with a bright blue sign. One of the lights was out, and the grass in front of the building wasn’t cut evenly. Teressa grabbed the flowers and card off the space between their seats. She walked inside the police station, Dove trailing behind her. Dove wondered how this would be any different.

The police station was a jumble of desk and guns. People sat around, drinking coffee and writing reports. Her eyes fell to the uniforms and the suits, trying to differentiate people of different statuses. She felt Teressa behind her, and that calmed her. The need to panic was subsiding in her chest. They would believe her now.

“We have a report to file,” Teressa said, holding up the flowers. Dove stood slightly behind her without really noticing it.

Nathaniel walked over to them. “What now?” he asked, rolling his eyes at Dove.

“Excuse me, is that how you talk to your citizens?” Teressa asked. “She is traumatized and is being threatened.”

“Seeing your shutter twitch in the wind is hardly a threat.”

“Look at the card that came with the flowers,” Teressa said, shoving it into his face. Dove watched Nathaniel read it. She had hoped to see some understanding across his face, some belief.

Instead, he stayed blank. “If you made this up, I can charge you.”

“It’s real,” Dove interjected. “You could go to the flower shop and ask.”

“I’m not sure that this is exactly a threat. More of a statement, really.”

“Can’t you just go talk to the flower shop?” Teressa asked. “See who bought the flowers?”

“Very well. It will be looked into,” Nathaniel said.

“Thank you.”