Two officers arrived within 15 minutes, taking my statement seriously but finding no signs of forced entry.
“Is there anyone who has a spare key?” the older officer asked.
“Building management has one. And my boss has one.”
Both officers looked up. “Your boss?”
I explained how six months ago, I’d locked myself out during a work emergency and missed an important meeting.
Marcus had been understanding but insisted on having a spare key made.
“That way if you’re ever in a bind, you can call me,” he’d said. “I take care of my team.”
It had seemed considerate then. But now it felt sinister.
The officers said there wasn’t much they could do without proof.
They suggested I change my locks and install a security camera. After they left, I sat on my couch in my violated space, feeling scared and alone.
My doorbell camera recorded motion and sent alerts to my phone. I’d been ignoring the notifications lately, assuming they were just delivery people.
With trembling hands, I opened the app and scrolled to around 2 p.m., when I’d been at work. For a few seconds, the hallway was empty.
Then a figure appeared.
The person’s face was partially obscured, but I could see enough — the expensive silver watch on their wrist, the distinctive one with the black face and silver band. I’d seen that watch hundreds of times during meetings.
It was Marcus’s watch. I was certain.
I watched in horror as the figure used a key to unlock my door and slip inside.
Thirty minutes later, they emerged, locked the door, and walked away.
“Sarah, something terrible is happening,” I said. “I need you to come over right now.”
She arrived within 20 minutes, and I showed her everything that I found. The doorbell footage, the Thai food incident, the car situation, and all the “coincidental” encounters.
We sat on my couch reviewing it all, and Sarah’s face grew darker with each revelation.
“Caitlin, this isn’t a coincidence,” she said firmly. “Marcus has been stalking you. He’s been watching you, tracking your routines, and he broke into your home.
This is serious.”
“But he’s my boss,” I said weakly, even though I knew she was right. “He has a wife and kids. He’s always been so supportive.”
“That’s how predators work,” Sarah said.Continue reading…
