11
However, nothing worked out how Stacia had planned.
She awoke the next morning at some ungodly hour to the police calling her about her computer.
“Derek,” she grumbled, knocking on her own bedroom door and yawning. “Police found my computer.”
The door peeked open, and he peered back at her, bleary-eyed. “That’s great. What time is it?”
“Eight. Too early. I have to go to the police station and talk to my landlord about breaking the lease.”
Derek heaved a sigh of relief. “You’re still planning on moving out?”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “You were right. It’s not safe. I don’t feel safe. Can we go and look at places this afternoon?”
“Let’s go as soon as you get back. But, if we don’t find anything tonight, I’m moving you into Pace’s place.”
“What? Why?” she asked.
“You think I’m leavin
