Bobby’s brows pinched and she shook her head. “And you didn’t believe her when she told you I was a woman,” she guessed.
“Worse. I didn’t give her the chance to explain.”
“Idiot,” she muttered and stalked off.
Chasin remained rooted and watched her go, thinking over what Bobby had inadvertently shared. Genevieve didn’t invite men into her bed—yet, not only did she invite Chasin, she’d done it enthusiastically. He didn’t need Bobby to tell him he’d fucked up, he knew the second he’d walked out of her house. He’d paused on her porch and considered going back in to hear her out. But then visions of his mother had invaded his thoughts and he’d left.
Viv doesn’t give second chances.
Fucking shit.
“Just got done going over the timeline,” Alec told Chasin.
He was standing in the same spot where Genevieve had been when he’d overheard her talking to Bobby, staring out the big window looking at the dock she’d fallen off of. Perfect timing, her splashing into the water and him kayaking past.
Christ, she was beautiful even with her hair wet and plastered to her head.
Now he understood her surprise when she’d introduced herself and he had no recognition.
Bet that doesn’t happen often.
“Yeah? Find anything interesting?” Chasin asked.
“First letter was delivered to her about a year ago. No one thought much about it because there wasn’t much to think about other than it came to her house instead of the PO box. Normal fan mail, he loved her music, her songs touched his soul. Stayed that way about four months. Then Genevieve performed in a benefit concert and the next letter was angry. He thought her outfit was too revealing and demanded she only wear jeans on stage so no one would see her legs. For the next month, he made it clear he thought Genevieve belonged to him, he loved her, thought she was beautiful, wanted to marry her and take her away from the spotlight so they could have a family. Genevieve went on tour, fifty-two days, thirty-one venues. Again, there was a shift. During that time, twenty letters were mailed to her home, all postmarked from the cities she was in. He was following her around and not happy. Huge escalation in attention and the tone became threatening.”
Christ.
None of that was good.
“And the gifts?”
“If you can believe this shit, it started out with stuffed animals. Another reason they paid them no mind, they were benign—teddy bears, stuffed unicorn, a frog, shit like that. We printed out the images Bobby sent us. She was smart and cataloged everything.”
Alec folded his arms. “After the benefit concert, he started with jewelry—all silver. A necklace with a heart pendant, bracelets, musical note charms, earrings. Not overly expensive, but still, the number of items would’ve set him back some cake. Then the last two months since she’d been home from touring, along with the letters he started sending pictures of rings he’d ripped out of magazines. The first three tear-outs had ‘marry me’ written in black marker under the ring with question marks. The next three still had ‘marry me’ scribbled but he lost the question mark and replaced it with an exclamation point. The last one says, ‘Pick one bitch, or I’ll pick for you.’”
Fucking hell, he’d stopped asking and started demanding. The letters were bad, the gifts upped the creep factor. The escalation in the frequency of the letters—really not good, but it was the shift in his response to being ignored that sent a shiver of concern up Chasin’s spine.
“And the house? Did Bobby leave anything out about the break-in?”
Alec didn’t answer, and the longer the silence stretched, the more acid leaked into his gut. There was more.
“Tell me,” Chasin demanded.
“Shit, brother, I knew something was eating at you this last week, and seeing your reaction to her, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. You gonna be able to keep your shit—”
“I will if you tell me what else you know.”
“You’re not gonna like it,” he warned.
“Don’t suspect I will, considering I don’t like any of the shit you just told me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need it all.”
“Keep your shit, Chasin,” Alec issued a second warning, something Chasin wasn’t fond of. But he kept his mouth shut so his friend would hurry up and tell him the rest.
“Bobby said she got home and the house was empty. Genevieve was out in her studio, which is on the property. Bobby says there are two guest houses, one she lives in and the second Genevieve converted to her home studio. I checked the satellite image, looks like it’s about twenty-five yards from the main house. Bobby said as soon as she entered the house, she felt a strange vibe and did a walk-through. She didn’t call the police because there were no signs of a break-in, just a gut feeling and she didn’t want to look like a fool if she was wrong.”
She should have trusted her gut, Chasin thought. Alec’s next words supported that belief.
“The last room she checked was the master suite. Bobby says when she walked in the room she knew someone had been in there. Genevieve’s tidy when she isn’t living out of a suitcase, but the dresser drawers were all opened, clothes hanging out. She noticed the bed covers were messed up and there was something lying in the middle. That’s where she saw the balled-up panties and picture. What she didn’t tell us, was he…fuck, brother…”
“Spit it out,” Chasin grunted, not liking a damn thing he’d heard but growing impatient for the rest.
“The picture of Genevieve also had semen on it.”
“Fucking Christ!” he exploded.
Sick fucking bastard.
“Let me guess, on her face,” Chasin bit out.
“You’d be correct.”
Goddamn, sick, fucking bastard.
“Bobby call the police?”
“Called the police, went to the studio, told Genevieve she should take a break. Convinced her to go out to lunch with her. Kept her out of the house long enough for the police to do their thing, the cleaning lady to come in, wash all of Genevieve’s clothes in her dresser. Police took the bedding, cleaning lady remade her bed and scrubbed the room. By the time Genevieve got back to her house, it was good as new and she never knew some motherfucker was in her bed jerking off and that her room had been a crime scene.”
Motherfucker was in her bed jerking off.
Chasin’s stomach roiled. The built-up acid leaked, turning bitter as his rage built.
“That shit shouldn’t have been kept from her.”
“I agree, but Bobby says she’s got her reasons though she didn’t share. What she did tell me was, she did it to protect Genevieve.”
You’d think that because you don’t know her.
What didn’t Chasin know? Why would Genevieve be better off left in the dark?
“That all?” Chasin asked.
“For now. McKenna’s running the names the uncle sent Genevieve. Jameson went to Baltimore to pick up the equipment he needs to set up the new system. Nixon’s in his office talking to the detective in Tennessee. All I can tell you about that is, Nix doesn’t sound happy.”
Which meant the police in Tennessee didn’t have shit on this guy, and likely hadn’t been taking the letters and gifts seriously.