"We need to get the crime scene techs in here." Brock wrapped her in a hug, nearly suffocating poor Fester in between them, but neither she nor the cat protested. "I'll call Bettis and Hansen and bring them in."
"You'll probably want to call Lieutenant Davidson, too." He nodded, his chin brushing her hair.
"I'm not going to let him do this. He can't have my life."
Brock made a sound of agreement, kissed her temple, and moved away. "Let's get this scene processed, and we'll worry about what happens next."
She gave her statement for the third time while sitting in the kitchen, and that's where she'd stayed. She'd turned off the oven over two hours ago when their dinner had started to burn. The crime scene techs had processed her entire apartment. Fingerprint dust covered absolutely everything. Both she and Brock gave sample prints for exclusion. They wouldn't find anything. Rich had been a cop. He knew to wear gloves. The stickie on the television and the homemade DVD with the looping footage were taken as evidence, as was the small noose that Rich had fashioned from butcher’s twine. The sick son of a bitch. Fester had been rattled, or he sensed her unease, because he hadn't willingly left her lap and launched back into it as soon as she'd let him.
"Where are they?" Davidson plodded into the kitchen and dumped his body into one of the four chairs.
Brock followed him into the kitchen after closing the front door behind the last crime scene tech. Kallie slid her phone across the table and hit the messages icon. The men huddled together and read the latest vitriol from her ex-husband. It was nothing new. Nothing that indicated he'd found her. No uptick in the threats.
Brock gazed at her. She shrugged. "They are all the same. I told you I'd let you know if the tone changed."
Davidson started to scroll. "How many are there?"
"Hundreds." Probably closer to a thousand. Rich was prolific.
"This is going to a judge. Restraining order and hopefully a warrant to pick up this motherfucker. Then we need to determine what to do with you." Davidson looked up from his phone at her snort.
She shook her head. "Nothing. I'm not going to let this guy scare me into leaving my job. I've told Grant about Rich. I'll keep him informed on what happened tonight. Brock has known from the start. I'm not ducking out. I have a life here. I'm not letting him take that from me."
"At a minimum we should move you to another precinct." Davidson leaned back in his chair.
"May I ask you a question, sir?"
"Shoot."
"If this current situation was in your lap, if you had a nut job threatening you, would you move to another precinct? Would you demand it of Brock? Of Bettis? Of Hansen?" She shook her head. "You wouldn't. You'd talk protective measures, officer safety, intelligent decisions by them and their partners. I am a damn good cop. I'm not backing down. I'll get better locks and use them. My situational awareness is on high alert. Moving me would only delay whatever the fuck he has planned, and it would give me a false sense of safety which I cannot afford."
Davidson rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm taking this to the Captain, and we'll end up talking to the department's lawyers, but you're right. Cops operate under threats all the time. Knowing you're a target is an advantage, but I fucking hate that one of my officers is being stalked.”
Kallie nodded her acknowledgment.
"King, you're on this woman's six when she's not with Grant."
Brock stared at him. "That's fucking guaranteed."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"No, you need backup. Insanity like this isn't something to fuck around with. I can put your ass into protective custody." Davidson stood and nodded at the door. "Both of you have a day off tomorrow. Get those locks changed, and for God's sake, use the damn deadbolt."
Brock followed him and shut and locked the door behind him. He leaned against the door frame, his hands in his jeans pockets.
She ran her fingers through the cat's fur and cooed, "He can't order me into protective custody."
Brock shook his head, his face a mask of seriousness. "Not the time to joke."
"Yeah, well if I don't, I'll snap. I don't want to give Rich that power. I take my personal safety seriously. There wasn't anything to indicate he'd found me."
"I understand that. When was the last time he texted?" Brock