Page 50 of Apple of My Eye

"I don't think I can promise that. If it's something that could hurt you, I'd go straight to Sheriff Patrick. I'd get the ODRR guys involved, keep watch over you and your sisters.” His eyes held mine. "Because I will never let harm come to you."

I considered that. He was sweet to want to protect me. Itmight be beyond anyone's control, but I believed he'd try. "These things happened years ago. There's nothing to be done now. Okay?"

I waited for his nod before I continued.

"For about a year before my parents' accident, someone left notes on my windshield when I was in town. Followed me. Showing up wherever I was. Constantly there. Watching." I shook my head. "It stopped when I made it stop. I gave him a reason to leave me alone. But sometimes, when I think about him, I can still feel it. The back of my neck going up. Not knowing if the car behind me is his or just a car."

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, you made it stop?”

"I protected myself and my sisters."

"Okay." He brought a hand up and tucked a loose piece of hair back from my face, a deliberate slowdown. "Are you saying you had a stalker? Are you thinking it's happening again?"

"I hope not."

"I need to know who did this to you."

"I'm not prepared to say."

"Why not?"

I shook my head.

"Is he still in Forest Grove?"

"The only people who know are him and his father."

His brows pulled together, working it out. "What the—Trevor Brewster?" He said it too loud.

"Lucky guess."

"You always react when his name comes up." He stepped back, a hand running through his hair. "You're telling me that man stalked you."

I nodded.

"Is he still doing it?"

"I don't know for sure."

"Could he be the one who broke in and took your father's things?"

"I have no idea. Breaking and entering would be more of a Seth Brewster thing." I thought of what Ivy had told me—how the congressman pitted his sons against each other, how Seth was always called on for the dirty work while Bruce kept Trevor close, grooming him for politics or the sheriff's seat. "Trevor's thing is more devious. Mind-fuckery."

Knox stared at me. "Tell me everything, Daisy."

I braced myself and drew a long breath.

"The year before my parents died, my family was in serious debt. Bad seasons, borrowed money, numbers that had gotten ahead of my father's ability to manage them — terrifyingly bad. They hid it from my sisters, but I knew. I heard the late-night arguments. I watched them suffer through the physical and mental toll of it, day after day. Dad was diagnosed with an ulcer. He suffered mood swings. All of it.” I pressed my lips together.

Knox's hands tightened on my arms, listening.

"Dad didn't know about the stalking. He hated the Brewsters for plenty of other reasons, especially for Seth and Ivy. But I'd been too afraid to say anything about what Trevor had been doing. Each note got worse. If I talked to a guy, he'd call me a slut. If I wore something too revealing, he'd leave nasty words about it." I pushed through more. "Once my car wouldn't start and he was right there, offering a ride. I didn’t take it. I should have told Dad. That's one of many regrets I carry."

"You were young," Knox said. Not an excuse, just the fact of it.

“One day, I came home and saw Trevor’s car in the drive, heard arguing on the porch. He told my father he could make the debt disappear. All Dad had to do was—" I swallowed. "Get me to marry him."

"The fuck." Knox stepped back in the small kitchen, hands fisted at his sides.