Chapter 4

Call him crazy, but Mike had a feeling he was being watched. For days now, the back of his neck had prickled at odd moments, but search as he might, he hadn't been able to find any reason for his uneasiness. And now it was happening again. At the grocery store, of all places. He'd just ended his last BPD shift before the big SWAT outing, and had needed to make some food purchases, so here he was.

He opened a glass freezer door, ostensibly to get ice cream, but took a hot second to study the reflection in the unopened glass next to him. Several women stood behind him with carts. A guy with his arms full of snack food, and a clerk stocking frozen fruit were also within his line of sight.

Mike grunted. There was nothing suspicious about any of them. Nothing that should have him rattled, but he couldn't shake the feeling he was under surveillance.

Picking up the first container to hit his fingers, Mike threw his choice in the cart, then glanced down and barked a laugh. Yeah…no. He'd picked up a goat cheese iced confection with red cherry swirls. That wasn't going to hit it. His kids would make all kinds of retching noises if he brought that into the house, and he wouldn't blame them. Mike reached into his cart to lift it out, and swore he heard a snorting sound somewhere in the aisle.

He lifted his eyes, and…the few people still milling around looked to be minding their own business.

Okay.This was ridiculous. He wasn't dreaming this up. Someone was having fun with him, and he needed to find out who, and why. He put the goat-shit back on its shelf, grabbed some real mint chocolate chip, then whipped around, and…

Nothing.

Except for the store employee, the area around him was now empty.

Goddammit.Mike knew he wasn't bonkers. He definitely had a stalker. He just needed to be sly in order to catch them in the act. In the meantime, he'd be vigilant in case they posed a threat.

He had a number of enemies, starting with a slew of criminals he'd helped apprehend and incarcerate when he lived near Boston, and ending with a number of perps in Bangor and the surrounding area whom he'd had a hand in arresting while on duty with both his BPD job, and his SWAT team.

Mike shook off his trepidation, attempting to bring his mind back to his task at hand, which was filling his cupboards and fridge with food that the kids would like while he was away for the upcoming weekend, and purchasing everything he'd want to eat while he bivouacked.

Taking stock, he put a mental checkmark next to the items he'd already picked up for lunch and breakfast; peanut butter, bread, power bars, cereal, and eggs. He didn't have to go beyond supplying himself for those meals because Everlee, Mason's wife was planning to lay in a spread for their one dinner as a group on Saturday night. She was an awesome cook, even using camp stoves, and firepits. Mike anticipated she'd be feeding them something amazing.

The command bus would be packed with beverages, milk, and water, so he didn't have to worry about what to drink, either, or what he'd put on his cereal. But his sweet tooth and his salty tooth were both calling out to him, so…

Reaching the snacks aisle, he picked up two large bags of potato chips and one container of his favorite cheese curls. When he turned to peruse the shelves opposite, he sensed movement to his left. Was it his follower? Using his cap brim as camouflage, he looked up from underneath. It appeared that one of the women who'd been in the freezer section was now poking through the snacks. She was of indeterminate age, and was…unremarkable. At least from what he could see without giving himself away.

Wearing big-ass sneakers that looked floppy on her feet, and overly large sweat pants that had seen better days, there was nothing about the woman that stood out as dangerous. His eyes traveled higher—while still pretending to look at junk food—and he noted an extra-large Red Riots' T-shirt. He grunted. That meant she was most likely a local because the Riots were what Orono High's teams were called.

Just as his gaze wandered upward to her chest, the woman abruptly turned and tromped away in her clown shoes. Mike narrowed his eyes. A large brimmed hat covered all her hair, so he couldn't determine color, but there was something about the way she carried herself…

No.He had to be mistaken. He didn't know her. He wasn't familiar with anyone who looked remotely like this lady. But if she were the person who'd been following him, he'd now taken note of her particulars. Which meant from this point on, no matter how she dressed, if she showed up in his periphery, he'd know it.

Grabbing an additional bag, this time pretzels, Mike headed for the candy display. His choice was a no-brainer. He dropped a couple bags of dum-dums into his cache, all the while knowing he'd get shit from his team. He had a thing for the suckers—especially the root beer flavor—and all the guys knew it. Which meant he'd have to protect his stash, because the troops loved to mess with him. They'd been known to completely decimate his stockpile while his back was turned.

Mike pondered, then grinned. He'd pick out his favorites, then hide them in his cereal box. Yeah. That would do it. None of his squad would go near the plain-ass shredded wheat he preferred. They teased him that it tasted like cardboard.

Happy with his shopping trip, and hoping he'd picked up the right stuff to entice his kids, Mike made his way to the register, this time keeping his eye peeled for an overlarge hat, but he didn't see one. By the time he was at his truck, loading in his bags, he'd relegated the oddly dressed woman to the back of his head. He had more things to worry about right now than stranger-danger.

Crap.He didn't want to think about that other thing, either. But the problem wasn't going away. His ex-wife's lawyer had called Mike's lawyer, demanding a monthly allowance now that the kids were visiting her. In the beginning, when she'd first left and filed for divorce, she'd had nothing to do with their offspring. Because of her disinterest at the time, Mike had settled a bunch of money on Mellie with no expectations of ever giving her more; and especially never imagining he'd be put on the hook for anything monthly. But Tim and Addilynn had eventually begun seeing their mother; and it was occuring more and more often, lately.

So now the bitch wanted compensation.

Mike needed to get with his attorney and see if she had any leg to stand on. He hoped not. She'd already done her best to suck him dry, which included taking half his assets which had been done legally, after she'd illegally cleaning out their joint account when she'd first taken off.

Mike sighed, still not sure how his marriage had ended up going to crap. He thought they'd been a happy bunch, but apparently he'd been delusional. Mellie, when he'd finally confronted her after she'd run off with her young man—and yes, he meant young—had told him Mike had been too wrapped up in his work and his damned collections, and hadn't paid quality attention to her for a long time. Mike didn't recall that being the case. He really hadn't thought he'd been remiss. They'd not only done family nights, but date nights too. They'd taken trips to interesting places, and he'd bought her everything she'd ever asked for. He'd always told her how pretty she was, and their sex life, although not as robust as it had once been, tracked for a couple who'd been married for eighteen years. Mike wanted to put Mellie's defection down to a mid-life crisis, but he didn't know if that was a real thing, so he'd asked the one person he still turned to for advice. His mother.

Her words of wisdom—that Mellie was the one who'd gotten a wild hair across her ass, and that Mike hadn't been at fault—had gone a long way toward relieving his worries. He knew his mother loved him, unequivocally, and was clearly biased in his direction, but after months of her, his father, and the kids reassuring him he was a great man and father, Mike felt better that the fault, indeed, should be laid at Mellie's door.

But now money…

How much did she want, and if he gave in, how many more times would she come at him for a "raise"? Granted, the kids were both in high school, and when they reached eighteen the state of Maine assured he'd be off the hook, but Mellie could do some serious damage to his wallet in the meantime. He had to look more closely at his rights.

Hefting his bags into his truck, Mike took a good long look around the parking lot and didn't see anything suspicious. But the minute he pulled out onto the street, the small hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention again.

Keeping his eyes forward as if he wasn't interested in what was around him, he pulled his phone from his pocket and activated the video function. Keeping it as low as possible, he swept the camera from side to side, pointing it out his windows and also to the rear of his vehicle before turning it off and pocketing it again. He'd look at the footage when he got home, after he'd taken care of his groceries.

"Hey, Dad."Addilynn gave him a big smile as he walked into the kitchen. "What did you get me?" She agilely gave a pirouetting leap up to kiss him on the cheek, then ignored him while she grabbed and pawed through the bags. "Sweet. Kiwi's and oranges."

His daughter was on a fruit kick this month. Last month it had been carb-loading, and the month before were health-shakes. Sometimes it was tough to keep up with her wants, but Mike was glad he'd hit it right this time.

"You know Gramma is going to come cook for you on Saturday night, right Dilly?" he reminded his daughter, using the nickname she'd told him time and time again that she'd outgrown.

"Dad." She rolled her eyes. "She can cook for Tim. I have a date."

"With who?" he growled.

Yes, she was testing her wings in the boy market, but no, he didn't have to like it. She was still just seventeen, and he had final say over her dates.

"It's Caden," she stated without acknowledging his gruff tone.

Mike relaxed. Dilly and Caden had been buddies since first grade, and he was a good kid. Of course, he was also an adolescent male, so Mike still needed details. There'd be no parking at the lake.

"Where are you going?" he questioned while shifting some of his purchases to the counter, others to the cooler he'd be taking with him, and leaving the rest of the stuff in the bags to carry back to the truck.

"Midgy Halpin is having a birthday party at her house."

Mike grunted. Satisfied. "Okay. I'll tell Gram, but I want you home by eleven-thirty."

Dilly rolled her eyes again, but didn't give him any grief as she plunked herself down on a stool and began to peel her orange. She was a sweet girl, thank God, and didn't push his buttons very often. When she did, she knew his limits.

"I hope you bought more than fruit," Tim griped as he walked into the room and saw what was on the counter.

"Frozen pizza bites and chicken nuggets," Mike replied, gaining a smile from his son. He walked over and stashed the items in the freezer. "But they need to last you for two days' worth of lunches," he reminded his son.

"Not supper on Saturday?" Tim questioned, heading for Mike's bag of chips.

"That's mine," Mike barked, grabbing the snack and putting it back in his private stash. "I bought you pretzels."

Tim didn't seem to mind the rebuke, grabbing the approved bag and ripping into it instead.

Mike continued. "Gram's coming to cook for you on Saturday night. You'll be around, right?"

"Mmm, hmmm," Tim replied incoherently around a mouthful before he swallowed. "Do you think she'll make lasagna?"

Mike shrugged. "You can ask."

"I will," Tim answered, walking away while thumbing his phone.

Mike had no doubt his mother would make Tim's favorite. She spoiled the kids, and Mike loved that.

"Yesss," sounded from the other side of the room. Tim must have gotten the answer he wanted. "Uh, Dad?" Tim turned back after smiling at the reply he'd received.

"Yeah?"

With the groceries sorted, Mike pulled some chicken breasts out of the fridge to make a quick piccata.

"Are you spying on me and Dill?"

"Huh?" Dilly's head came up.

"What?" Mike also snapped to attention. "No. Why would you ask that?"

Tim shrugged. "Because of the camera on the oak tree."

Every nerve ending in Mike's body stood at attention. "Camera?" he repeated.

"Daaaad." Dilly drew out the one syllable in clear teenage-condemnation while Mike held up a hand to forestall her protest, and proceeded with his freakout.

"What camera?"

"Umm… The one that's about twenty feet up, pointed right at the house. Aiden and I were messing around with the drone you gave me for my birthday, and when the thing got caught in some branches, I went up to grab it. That's when I saw the camera. It's kind of creepy, because from where it is, it can probably see right into our bedrooms."

Creepy was an understatement.

"I didn't put it up," Mike snarled, then tried to temper his tone. He wasn't mad at his kids, he was fucking furious at the unknown person who'd breached the privacy of his home. "I need to check this out. Dinner can wait."

"Darned straight it can," Dilly agreed, jumping down off her stool. She was the mama-bear in the household, and Mike could tell she was gearing up to go with him.

"Uh, uh, Dill, you stay here while I take a look. I'll need to do a complete sweep of the yard." Mike told her.

"More eyes are good, Dad," Dilly argued, clearly not backing down.

"Yeah. More eyes," Tim agreed, his gaze sharp.

Shit.Maybe they were right. But if the danger extended beyond the cameras, into the woods, they might not be safe outside.

Dammit.Speaking of safe, how could he leave his kids alone at the house this weekend when someone was messing with their privacy?

"Alright. You can come with me," he grunted. "But follow my orders. If I say drop, you drop. Got it?"

They both nodded solemnly.

This whole thing sucked. Putting his kids in possible danger. But if they were with him, they wouldn't be vulnerable to someone breaking in if that was the perpetrator's actual goal.

But back to the weekend plans…

"After supper you're both packing up and I'm bringing you to Gram and Gramps."

Dilly opened her mouth to argue, but must have seen the set look on Mike's face, because she snapped her lips shut, huffed through her nose, then nodded. Still, she couldn't leave it completely alone. "No matter what, I'm going to the party Saturday night, though. Right?"

Mike thought for a second, then acquiesced. "You can. But curfew will be eleven. Your grandparents don't stay up late."

To give Dilly props, she didn't dispute that, either.

Mike marched out the back door, his kids on his heels, to traverse the yard and stand beneath the large oak tree. "Show me," he said to Tim.

Tim moved to a spot where there was a small break in the leaves, pointing upward. Mike saw the reflection off the lens and swore. "Dammit."

"You want me to go up and get it?" Tim asked, looking eager.

"No. I don't want you touching it. I'm going to call the forensics guy on our team and have him check it out."

"Smart move, Dad," Dilly praised sagely. "That way you won't disturb any evidence."

Dilly was addicted to crime-drama podcasts, and as much as her input normally amused Mike, this was no laughing matter.

"Stay right here with me while I make my call," he told his kids. His head stayed on a swivel, examining every corner of his property and beyond for movement of any kind. Mike didn't like having to exercise this kind of caution in his own yard. Not one bit. But his gut, after an intense perusal, settled a little. He didn't get the feeling there was anyone in the woods; at least not at this time. If he thought for a moment there was an immediate threat, he'd make Tim and Dilly head for his truck.

Mike dialed his teammate. "Welker. It's Mike."

"Hey LT. What's up?"

"I need you at my property, stat."

"Any reason?"

Mike heard movement, and knew Welker was already heading out.

"Tim found a surveillance camera up a tree, pointed at my house. It's not mine."

Welker grunted. "Don't touch it."

Mike scoffed. "I know that."

"Sorry, LT. Of course you do. It's just I'm a little rattled that someone would be spying on you. Any clue who it might be?"

"None, whatsoever, except…" Should he tell Welk he suspected he'd been being watched over the past few days? Mike looked at his children's expectant faces, and… No. He didn't want them worrying. He'd tell Welker in private when the man got here, and together they could review the video Mike had taken from his truck. "We'll talk after you arrive." Mike changed gears. "I'm going to have a look around the rest of the yard and see if there's anything else I should be concerned with."

"Right," Welker responded. "Be careful."

Oh, he would.

And when he found out who was messing with him?

There'd be hell to pay.