After they went inside, Kroup said, “She’s a hoot.”
“You have no idea,” Jamie and Jack said together.
After introductions, Kroup put Havoc to work. Watching him obey Kroup’s subtle hand commands was poetry in motion.
It took all of five seconds for Havoc to sit at Kroup’s left side, signaling he hadn’t sniffed anything worth warning us about.
“I can’t guarantee the box is safe to open, but it’s not giving off a chemical signature,” Kroup said matter-of-factly. “Open at your own risk.”
We discussed theories before Kroup asked, “Do you need me to stick around?”
“We’re good, thanks for your help.” Jamie stuck out his hand.
After they exchanged business cards, I walked Kroup back to his truck. Havoc hopped into the back seat after I gave him a pat goodbye.
“Thanks for coming. I owe you one.”
“It’s good for him.” He nodded toward the back. “And don’t think I won’t call to collect.”
We shook hands and hugged again. “Let me know what you find. And Blaze.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be such a stranger.”
“Copy that.”
They’d already cut the tape on the box by the time I returned. Apparently, AJ wasn’t a patient man. Jack and Jamie filmed from opposite sides as AJ’s large, blue-gloved hands lifted the flaps.
We held our breath as he slowly lifted the last flap.
All we could see was brown packing paper.
“Step back,” AJ said. His voice was thick with concern. We didn’t know what we’d find when he pulled the paper out.
“We’re good,” Jack replied. Jamie and I nodded our agreement. Their actions confirmed my initial impression of SSI—they were good men and wouldn’t leave their teammate to face the risk alone, regardless of the risk to themselves.
AJ grabbed a corner of the thick brown paper and slowly lifted it. It didn’t change shape as he lifted it out of the box in one rumpled piece and set it on the ground at arm’s reach. A thin decorative stone, glued to the bottom of the four by six-inch box, explained the weight distribution.
After confirming there was nothing under the stone, we shifted so Jack and Jamie could record AJ opening the wadded-up paper.
We held our collective breaths as AJ slowly, methodically unraveled the packing paper.
Wrapped inside was a plastic black rose. All that build up. All that worry. All that caution for a rose. Essentially, for nothing.
Well, caution was never for nothing, but it felt anticlimactic.
“Who the hell sends a rose in a box?” AJ asked.
“We need to ask Ashley about the black roses. The first delivery could be construed as an insult for breaking his heart, but this,” Jack paused, running his hand through his hair, “this was meant to scare her.”
“That’s fucked up,” AJ added.
A chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t the game of a jealous ex. It seemed like someone was testing us. Testing Ashley’s protection.
“We need to increase Ashley’s protection,” I blurted out.
If this was done on behalf of her ex, it meant he was a bigger threat than we’d anticipated. If it wasn’t, we needed to figure out who and why. And we needed to do it yesterday.
