Chapter 2 — Ellie Moves In

Hudson Caldwell

The knock on the door jolted Hudson out of her spiraling thoughts, her pulse still unsteady from Detective Vega’s indifference. She glanced at the microwave clock—barely noon. The light slipping through the heavy curtains was weak and gray, like a half-hearted promise of comfort that couldn’t quite banish the lingering shadows. Her fingers tightened around her phone, trembling slightly as the knock came again, sharper this time.

“It’s me!” Ellie’s voice rang out, muffled but clear.

Relief washed over Hudson, but unease clung stubbornly to its edges. She crossed the room slowly, her socked feet brushing against the creaky floorboards. Peering through the peephole, she saw Ellie in the hallway, her cropped blonde hair slightly mussed, the collar of her leather jacket turned up against the chill. Ellie’s piercing blue eyes darted toward the far end of the corridor before snapping back to the door. There was a tautness to her stance, as though she were bracing herself for something unseen.

Hudson hesitated, her hand hovering over the lock. Letting anyone in—*even Ellie*—felt like lowering her last line of defense. But the loneliness gnawed at her more fiercely. Her fingers moved almost of their own accord, sliding the chain free and undoing the deadbolt. The door creaked open just enough for her to meet Ellie’s gaze.

“Hey,” Ellie said, her voice softer now. Her sharp features eased slightly as her gaze swept over Hudson’s pale face and the dark shadows under her eyes. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t,” Hudson murmured, stepping aside.

Ellie strode in briskly, her boots tapping against the floor, the faint scent of her woody perfume cutting through the air. Her leather jacket landed over the back of a chair, the gesture casual yet oddly claiming. She turned to Hudson, crossing her arms in a way that felt both commanding and oddly protective. “You sounded freaked out on the phone. What’s going on?”

Hudson closed the door and leaned against it, the solid weight grounding her. “Someone was here, Ellie. They touched my things… left a note.” Her voice broke slightly, the words catching in her throat. “Vega doesn’t believe me. He said there’s no evidence.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her expression sharpening like a blade. “That useless prick,” she spat, her voice low and venomous. She took a step closer, her boots grinding softly against the floor. “I told you not to waste your breath on the cops. They never care about stuff like this.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Hudson whispered, her arms wrapping protectively around herself.

Ellie’s eyes softened, but only slightly. “What did the note say?”

Hudson hesitated, the words—*I see the real you*—burning in her memory. They felt too raw, too invasive to speak aloud. “It doesn’t matter,” she said finally, her voice frail. “It was personal. Someone’s watching me. I know it.”

Ellie’s face grew unreadable. Her blue eyes darkened as she stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Hudson’s shoulder. Her grip was steady, but it lingered just a second too long. “Then you’re not staying here alone. Pack a bag. You’re coming to my place.”

Hudson flinched under Ellie’s touch, pulling back to create space between them. “Ellie, I can’t just leave. This is my home, my studio. And what if… what if they follow me there?”

Ellie frowned, her sharp features softening with something like calculation. “Then I’ll handle it,” she said quietly, her tone unnervingly calm. She tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Or I could stay here with you.”

The suggestion hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Hudson’s gaze darted to the paint-stained apron still draped over the doorknob—a comfort once, now a silent accusation. Her stomach twisted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said softly, though her words lacked conviction.

Ellie sighed, running a hand through her short hair in frustration. “Fine. Then we’ll make it safe here. First thing’s first—let’s check the locks.”

Without waiting for permission, Ellie moved to the door, testing the deadbolt and chain with deliberate force. “This lock’s garbage,” she muttered. “You need something stronger.” She strode to the living room, yanking aside the heavy curtains to inspect the window latches. “You’ve got to keep these locked, Hudson. Anyone could climb up if they’re desperate enough.”

“They’re always locked,” Hudson replied defensively, her voice sharper than she intended.

Ellie turned to her, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “Good. Then let’s keep it that way.”

For the next hour, Ellie moved through the apartment like a storm, checking every lock, every window, every shadowed corner. She opened cabinets, peered under the bed, and even nudged aside the stack of canvases leaning against the wall. Hudson trailed after her, anxiety building with every step. Ellie’s presence, though meant to comfort, felt invasive, like an overzealous brushstroke ruining a delicate painting.

“You don’t have to do all this,” Hudson said finally, leaning against the kitchenette counter.

Ellie straightened, dusting off her hands. “Yes, I do. If Vega won’t take this seriously, then someone has to.” Her gaze met Hudson’s, sharp and unyielding. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The words were earnest, but they carried an edge that made Hudson’s skin prickle. She folded her arms, her fingers brushing the hem of her sweater. “I appreciate it, but…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I just need some space to think, okay? All of this—it’s overwhelming.”

Ellie’s mouth opened as if to argue, but she caught herself. After a pause, she exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing. “Fine,” she said, her tone clipped. “But I’m staying tonight. If they come back, they’ll have to get through me first.”

Hudson hesitated, the knot in her chest tightening further. Part of her wanted to argue, to insist she could handle this alone. But the memory of the note, the faint scent of cologne on her brush… it was enough to make her nod reluctantly. “Okay. Just for tonight.”

Ellie’s expression softened, a small, satisfied smile pulling at her lips. “Good. You won’t regret it.”

As the afternoon wore on, Hudson tried to lose herself in her work. She stood before her easel, brush in hand, but her strokes were erratic and unfocused. The tension in the apartment was a palpable weight, Ellie’s presence a constant reminder of the violation Hudson couldn’t forget.

By evening, the apartment felt heavier than ever, the shadows pooling in the corners like dark stains. Hudson curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, while Ellie stood by the window, her arms crossed as she stared out at the dimly lit street below.

“What if they don’t stop?” Hudson asked quietly, her voice barely audible.

Ellie turned, her eyes fierce. “Then we make them stop. Whoever this is, they don’t get to win. Not while I’m here.”

The intensity in Ellie’s voice sent a shiver down Hudson’s spine. She wanted to believe in Ellie’s confidence, to feel safe in her presence. But beneath the surface, a tiny voice whispered a warning—one she wasn’t ready to confront.

That night, as the city’s hum faded into the stillness of the early hours, Hudson lay awake in her bed, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling. Through the cracked door, she could see Ellie’s silhouette on the couch, her posture rigid, like a sentinel standing guard.

The sight should have been reassuring. But instead, it felt suffocating.

Hudson turned onto her side, her stomach knotting as she pulled the blanket higher under her chin. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to shift and pulse, alive with an energy she couldn’t name.

And somewhere, out there in the dark, someone was watching.