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"What the hell?" Emma Bonofasi swayed in her living room as she stared at the photographs in her hands. "Who took these? I'm in bed for cripessakes." She waved one of the pictures in the air. "Sleeping! How the—?"
John Crawford, her lawyer, grabbed her elbow to steady her. "What's going on?"
"What's going on? What's going on?" she gasped. "Someone took pictures of me sleeping. Look." She handed him the images of herself sleeping on her stomach, and a few on her back with her mouth slightly open, the covers kicked off, showcasing her anime-print pyjamas for all the world to see.
"Did your son take these as a joke?" John said.
"Mateo is eight-years-old." She rubbed her pounding forehead. "Besides, he's in Italy, visiting his grandparents. And do you honestly think I'd be on the verge of hysteria if I thought my eight-year-old son took these?"
"Shit." John stared at the photos. "Is that what you wear to bed?"
She shot him her nastiest look. "Seriously? That's your question?" She grabbed the pictures out of his hand and threw them on the coffee table. "Jesus, John, you're my attorney. Get serious. This isn't funny."
"Sorry." He cleared his throat. "I'm not that skilled in comic relief."
She inhaled a shaky breath and looked around her living room. "I don't even know what to say or do." She raked a hand through the wavy kinks in her hair. "Oh, God." Her fingers got caught on her kinky roots as reality slammed into her. "Some creep walked into my house and took pictures of me." Air surged in her throat. "How the hell did he get in? What if Mateo was home?" Panic curled up from her stomach. Omg, her son could have been here!
"Emma, calm down. I'm sure there's a good explanation for this." He picked up the photos from the coffee table. "It's probably some idiot's idea of a joke. I doubt anyone was in your house."
What kind of damn divorce lawyer was her? "These shots were taken right here, inside this house. Whoever took them was standing at the foot of my bed." She snatched the images out of his hand.
He reclaimed the pictures out of her grasp. "You've seen enough." He pulled out his cell phone. "I'm calling the police." He punched in the number and paced around the room, explaining the situation to desk the operator.
Emma held onto the back of her winged back chair as the full impact of the situation took root in her mind.
Sweet baby Jesus, they could have done anything to me, or worse.
Her stomach roiled, and white spots danced before her eyes as it seemed like the living room melted and twisted like wrung laundry.
"Emma?" John finished his call and put his arm around her. "Sit down. The police are on their way. I'll get you some water. Or do you want something stronger?"
"No, thanks." She pressed her hands to her forehead. "I just need a minute to think. I'll be fine. This has to be a mistake." She babbled the useless reassurances.
She was nothing close to fine, and she didn't complain when John pulled her into his arms to comfort her.
***
JERICHO BONOFASI CHARGED through the front door of Emma's house and came face to face with a uniform he recognized, Constable Andrew Tyler.
"Holy shit, Bonofasi, is that you?" Tyler said. "Heard you were up on the Hill, working security."
Jericho nodded. "Undercover detail." He scowled as he took in the scene in the living room. That asshole lawyer had his arms around his wife.
Emma glared at him through narrowed eyes. Obviously, the last two years and pending divorce hadn't mellowed her blatant hatred for him. Her dark brown eyes sharpened beneath her naturally thick lashes, and hailing from a Nigerian mother and British father, she still held herself like a queen with the way she looked down her nose at him.
Frederick Abraham, his old partner, walked up to him. "What are you doing here?"
"I got an anonymous tip that there was trouble at my wife's house." He walked further into the room, staring at Emma. "You good?"
Her glared turned colder, if that was possible, and she didn't respond.
"You can't come in here." Attorney Asshole crossed his arms over his puffed-out chest. "I have a restraining order against you."
"Take the stick that's stuck up your ass and make room for your bullshit order." Jericho stalked toward him. "That's where it belongs."
"Are you threatening to snap, again?"
"When I snap, you'll be the first to know."
Attorney Dick Head looked over at his colleagues. "Officers, you heard him. He's uttering more threats against me. I insist he be removed from the premises immediately."
Abraham made a pained expression. "Bonofasi, are you going to behave?"
Jericho nodded. "Strong possibility."
"Abraham," Emma said. "I think it's best he leaves. Take him some place far away."
Jericho stared Emma down. "I'm not leaving."
Emma matched his emphatic tone. "Yes, you are."
The asshole pulled Emma into his side. "Officer, please abide by my client's wishes."
Abraham looked apologetically at Emma. "Sorry, Em, but he has a right to hear about this. Given what you've told me, even considering the stalker fans you mentioned, and we will follow up on those this week, but given your husband's—"
"Ex-husband," she interjected.
"Sure," Abraham rubbed his head and let out a sigh, "Your ex-husband's history with Dexter Snakehole Cole, who's now out on parole—"
"Snakehole's out?" The information was a sucker punch to Jericho's gut.
"Ya, last week," Abraham looked at him.
Jericho scowled at his colleagues. "And nobody thought to give me a head's up? What the fuck?"
"We just found out," Abraham said. "Besides, you're working with the feds now."
Jericho growled. "Don't start with that B.S."
Emma raised her hand. "Can you guys piss on each other on your own time? Is this Snakehole guy the monster who ruined my life two years ago?"
"Yes," Jericho said.
She turned to Abraham. "The same creep who came in here while I was sleeping?"
"What the fuck?" Jericho stepped forward. "He was in this house?"
"So, it seems." Emma shoved the pictures into Jericho's hand. "This is all your fault."
He scanned the images. "You think it's him?"
"Sounds like something that bastard would do to send you a message."
"That son-of-a-mother-fucking-whore." Jericho injected a fierce warning into his voice. "I'll destroy the bastard."
"Your damn job is screwing with my life. Again." Emma pointed a finger at him. "For two years I had to put up with having our lives being turned upside down because you worked undercover, and now this?" She looked to her attorney as if the asshole were her saviour. "Is there anything you can do?"
"You're coming with me," Jericho said.
The room fell silent as everyone stared at him. "I have a cabin that I use as a safe house where we can stay until there's a full investigation, and it all gets sorted out."
Everyone spoke at once.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," Emma said.
"You're going to have to get special leave," Abraham said. "Doubt your C.O. will extract you."
Attorney Asshole shook his head. "You have no right or grounds to take my client anywhere."
"You have your own safe house?" Tyler looked awestruck.
"Forget it. I'm staying right here. In my house."
Jericho looked at the ceiling. "Will y'all shut the fuck up for a minute?" He sidestepped the asshole and put his hands on Emma's shoulders. "You can't stay here. First, the obvious, it's not safe. Second, forensics has to come in and sweep the house for bugs, or hidden cameras."
She narrowed her eyes. "Bugs? Cameras? " She blew out a loud breath and glanced around the room. "I don't think anyone's gone to all that trouble to plant spying equipment all over this place. This Snakehole monster doesn't sound that smart."
"Smart enough to get into the house once, with no sign of forced entry." He looked at Tyler and Abraham. "Am I right?"
Both men nodded in agreement.
"Right," Tyler said. "No signs."
He returned to Emma. "Which means he's real good at a stealth operation, and next time his peek-a-boo may not just be of you in those ridiculous pyjamas. It could be you stepping out of the shower, and pictures of your T&A will be the least of your problems."
He knew he scared the shit out of her by the way her hands trembled, and her expression changed from annoyance at seeing him to fear. Good. She needed to be afraid enough to listen.
She paced, rubbing her temples. "Okay. Okay. I hear you." She faced him and inhaled a deep breath. "In that case, I'll join Mateo in Italy until the monster is caught."
Jericho shot Abraham a look. "You can't leave, Em."
"What do you mean? You just said it's not safe here."
"It's not, but you have to remain in the province because of the mandatory victim appearance notice act."
"In the province?" She turned toward the asshole. "John, is this true?"
The fucker shrugged. "I don't know. This isn't my area of expertise. But I will check into it."
Jericho held up his hand. "We don't have time for you to dick around. Why are you even still here? We don't need you."
"Jericho, stop it," Emma snapped. "My house. My guest." She looked at Abraham. "Tell me the truth, is this victim act true or is this some bullshit he just came up with?"
Abraham didn't miss a beat. "It's true, Em."
Tyler's mouth opened, and before he could say anything, Jericho shot him a look.
Emma turned to Tyler. "Is this true?"
"Yes." Tyler cleared his throat. "It's like he said... the act. You should go with him to stay safe—"
"Enough talk." Jericho pulled out his cell phone. He was going to call in every marker and favour he had. There was no fucking way he'd leave her alone now that Snakehole had been paroled, let loose on the streets to terrorize his wife. He'd do whatever it took, including lying to her. It wasn't the first time he had to lie to protect her, and probably wouldn't be the last. "Emma, go pack a bag. We're leaving right now."
She made a sound of anguished frustration. " Okay. But this is the end of you telling me what to do." She headed for the staircase, stopped, and turned. "Also, just know that John is going to be working on finding out if any of this is legit—this victim act, or whatever the hell you called it." She looked from him to the Asshole.
Jericho folded his arms. "I'm sure he will. Now move your ass."
***