Fiona didn’t want to climb the stairs to her apartment. She kicked the broken elevator door, sending a scowl at the “Out of Order” sign. The evening was not going to plan. Her workout at the gym had left her feeling wiped out, not to mention the woman who had been on the treadmill next to her had awkwardly patted her on the back when she went to leave, as though she was making sure Fiona was okay. Now, coming home to a crappy notice on the elevator advising her the stairs were her only choice, well, it wasn’t exactly her idea of a good way to cap the evening off.

She didn’t have another option, though, so she began to climb. By the time she’d reached her floor, her muscles were screaming at her. She had never been more thankful that her apartment was just around the corner from the stairs. Usually she hated it since she could hear everyone coming and going, but not at that moment.

As she slid her key into the lock, she felt the familiar clicking and sticking as she pulled the door toward her to make sure the deadbolt opened. All she wanted was a scolding hot shower and a glass of wine.

What she got was a cold sweat and the urgent need to vomit.

The door had swung open to reveal her entire apartment covered in roses, carnations, and baby’s breath. There were probably other flowers strewn about as well, but she hadn’t examined the scene closely. One thought kept banging its way through her head, over and over again like a train stuck on a loop.

He had found her.

There was no question in her mind as to where the flowers had come from. She backed away from her apartment door and knocked on the door diagonal from her own. A young woman opened up.

“Hi, sorry. I’m Fiona. I live in 304,” she said, gesturing to the open door of her own apartment. “Someone broke in, and I was wondering if you would mind if I called the police from your apartment.”

“Ohmygod, no, not at all. Come in!” She opened the door wide, and Fiona saw one of the more expensive apartments laid out in front of her. It was nice, but nothing she needed. She had loved her apartment, and now it was ruined. She was going to have to run. Again.

Her hands shook as she dialed the local police department, and her tears barely stayed contained as she reported the crime.

The operator was calm and understanding and advised her that a unit would be on its way over any second.

As she waited, the other woman, who had been kind and accommodating, chatted away. It all went in one ear and out the other, though, as Fiona’s mind was already working frantically to plan her escape from the city and how she could get away the fastest without shooting herself in the foot with unpaid bills or a vacant apartment, not to mention the job situation. No matter where she landed, she would need a letter of recommendation, or at least the option to put them down as contacts for perspective employers to call. God, she hated Tommy, hated that she’d ever spent more than a minute with him, and hated that he’d systematically destroyed her life.

When a knock came at the apartment door, Fiona almost jumped out of her skin. The familiar blue uniform of a police officer filled the doorway, and when he came in to question her, it was like déjà vu on steroids. She’d been in this situation multiple times now and could almost answer the questions before the cop asked them. Had this behavior occurred before? Had threats been made? Was there a history of violence with the suspect? Did she have a restraining order against the suspect? Had her property been vandalized? Did she know the suspect?

It was those last two questions where she could practically see the cop’s eyes glaze over.

“Can you tell me how your property has been vandalized?” the officer asked, pen resting on his notebook.

“Didn’t you see? There are flowers everywhere.”

“So, it’s been vandalized with flowers?” His eyebrows arched.

She nodded her agreement.

“And how do you know the suspect?”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

His pen paused before jotting the last part down. “I see. Could he just be reaching out to reconcile the relationship?”

“He broke into my apartment. My apartment that I found after moving to multiple different cities, only to have him follow me.”

“Um hum.”

“I didn’t touch anything, so you can have whoever you want go in there and get fingerprints or whatever.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary at this time.”

Before she could respond with exactly what she thought of his lack of concern, his radio crackled to life. A tinny voice rattled off some numbers and a location that wasn’t far from where they were.

“If you’ll excuse me, ma’am, I have to respond to this call. Here’s my card. I’ll file a report as soon as I get back to the station. Feel free to call if anything further happens. Sometimes men just need to try, to test the waters. I’m sure if you don’t respond, he will leave you alone.”

“What the—?” she spluttered. “He’s a stalker. I called the police because I need you to actually do something.”

The officer sighed and turned back around. “What is it you’d like us to do, ma’am?”

“I don’t know. Leave someone here to watch the building? Track him down and make sure he leaves the city?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have the resources to leave someone watching your building until he decides to show up again, if he does at all, and we can’t force him to leave the city. All we can do is make sure he’s following the restraining order.”

“Fucking fantastic.”

“Ma’am.” The officer ignored her outburst and turned, walking away with a stride that ate up the hallway in front of him.

As she stood in between her apartment and her neighbor’s, she could hear the officer practically running down the stairs to respond to whatever the call was that had come over his radio. Maybe it was good that she’d be leaving the city, since the police there obviously didn’t care one way or another what happened to her.

Tommy would kill her if she didn’t respond to him. She knew that as sure as she knew her own name.