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I showed her the exchange. She read it, then looked at me.
“Jo. Honey. He used your full name. That’s practically a declaration.”
I squinted at her. “It’s just my name.”
Cameron shook her head firmly. “Transfer Remy to another counselor. Clear the ethical issue. Then let that man take you to dinner.”
After she left, I sat thinking about her words.
Transfer her.
It was the obvious solution. Remy was doing well. Any competent child counselor could continue her progress.
The day was uneventful until I walked out and found the paper tucked under my windshield wiper.
My stomach dropped. The note was written on lined school paper, like he’d asked a student for it. I used a pen from my bag to tug one side from under the wiper.
Sorry about yesterday. Let me make it up to you? -Blake
Below it was a phone number.
My hands started shaking.
He’d been here. At the school. He knew where I worked, where I parked, what car I drove. He’d interacted with the children!
I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers and took a picture of the note tucked under the wiper. Then another from the other side of my windshield, the elementary school in the background.
I should call Lane.
My finger was already hovering over his contact information.
Just to report it. Professionally. Because he’s law enforcement.
I hit call.
He answered on the second ring.
“Jo?” His voice was alert, concerned.
“I—” My voice cracked. “I found something on my car. At the school. It’s from Blake.”
“Stay where you are,” Lane said immediately. “I’m coming to you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m already in my truck. Five minutes.”
The line went dead.
I stood in the parking lot and waited for Lane Daniels to rescue me.
Again.
Chapter 6
Lane
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