She seemed nervous. “Of course,” I encouraged. I wanted to lean across the table and hold her hands, but she was holding herself back firmly against the booth seat.
“Well, I have received a few gifts, and I don’t know who’s sending them. How much would it be to look into that?”
I stiffened, stress radiating through my body. Was she scared?
“Do you feel threatened, Rose?” Would she go to the police? I had no record, and I had never been so much as reported for my past behaviors.
“No, not threatened. They’re kind of nice. Thoughtful. I just ... I just would really like to know who they’re from.”
Phew. Fuck, how do I answer this?
“Do they seem romantic in nature? Or friendly?”
“The first few felt friendly, but the last two seemed romantic. I don’t know. I’m not ... good at reading these things.” She looked down at her drink. “I can show you the notes. But I need to know if I can afford it first.”
“I’m happy to have a quick look for free, Rose. I don’t want you to feel scared.”
“Oh, I’m not scared. Not at all.”
This was good. But then, she didn’t know who the anonymous admirer was. Would she like that it was me or would she run? She was still a client. I couldn’t reveal myself yet.
“Take some photos of the notes and send them through. Also, tell me which company the gifts were delivered by.”
Her reaction was perfect. She reached across the table and grabbed for my hands. Looking me straight in the eye, she said a simple “Thank you.”
Should I push it? Ask her why she felt she was misreading? I knew the answer, but I wanted her to confide in me. Fuck it. I decided to do it.
“Why do you think you misread things Rose?”
“Well, I ... um. I don’t know. I’m just no good at these things. I never have been.”
“It sounds like this guy is into you Rose, there’s no misreading that. What will you do if I can find out?”
“I guess I’ll find out about him. Not in a stalking way. I’m not a stalker,” she insisted firmly.
No, my Zahra. Youwerea stalker. Past tense. I’m a stalker in the present tense. Maybe you’ll stalk me back?
“And if he’s not a crazy stalker?” I asked.What if he is a crazy stalker, someone who’s crazy for you?
“Then I suppose I’d like to meet him,” she responded. This was going well. She wasn’t scared. I could up my game. Not in a creepy way, but maybe in a more intense way.
Our meals arrived and we discussed the possibilities that arose from my meeting with Paul. Rose seemed to be optimistic, but she still held herself in check, knowing this could all end in nothing. Hopefully, even if the investigation failed, she’d have some kind of closure, the knowledge that she had tried.
We finished our meals, and I could tell she was getting ready to leave. I’d insisted on paying the bill, telling her I hadn’t used all of her $500 payment yet. I wanted to push her just a little further.
“Rose, are you sure there’s nothing you’re not telling me?”
She paused, looking at everything in the restaurant except me.
“No, not really. I mean ... I think—Um, there’s some ... I don’t know. No, I mean I do know, but it might be ...” she trailed off.
You’re so close, my Zarah. So close.
Chapter 14: The Rose—Confessions
I was so tempted to tell him about my mental health struggles. He was a kind man. He always listened and surely he saw a great deal of mental health issues in his line of work. Something told me he wouldn’t be judgmental. I couldn’t see how my mental health was relevant to the case, but for some reason, I desperately wanted to be open with this man and for him to accept me anyway.
“I have a mental health condition,” I blurted. “I’m well right now, but I have had some problems in the past. Problems that meant that I had to ... that I had to spend some time in hospital. I hurt people.” My face was burning. I never used the word erotomania. Men would assume I was a sex addict, and that wasn’t what my diagnosis was about at all.
