“So were you. Calling me a sweetheart and saying you’re happy.”
“Those actually weren’t lines. You can be a sweetheart, and I am happy.” She lifts up on tiptoe and smacks a kiss on my lips. “But since you’re still in Robocop mode, this might be a good time to tell you about something that happened.”
“What?” I go on instant alert.
“Promise you won’t overreact.”
“I don’t overreact. Let’s hear it.”
“I’m already regretting this, Jasper, so take it down a notch.”
“Jordyn, you are testing my patience.”
“That sounds promising.”
“Jordyn!”
“Okay, okay. It’s in the laundry room. I was keeping it in the car, but, with the heat, I thought they might start to stink. I took a picture because I didn’t know how much longer they would last before I’d be forced to throw them out.”
I follow her into the apartment as she chatters away about something I don’t yet know about but raises every hair on the back of my neck. She takes a box from beneath the sink and opens it up on the washing machine. I look inside and work to control my rage. “When did you get these?”
“Thursday.”
“It’s Saturday, and you’re just now showing this to me.”
“I didn’t want to ruin the weekend.”
I make a sound in the lower range of my chest. “Tell me everything, and don’t leave out one detail.”
“Yes, sir,” she salutes, but I’m not amused. “They arrived at my office on Thursday morning.”
“What time?”
“Um…around eleven-thirtyish. Nori, the office manager, brought them to my desk. I wasn’t expecting to find this.”
“Dead roses wrapped in plastic.”
“It’s not as sinister as you’re making it sound.”
“I’m stating the facts.”
“With a tone that suggests I’m in danger when I’m not. It’s just Talon trying to mess with me.”
“How do you know he sent them?”
“Who else would do that?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
“It was him, Jasper,” she contends. “Even though he laughed in my face and said he wouldn’t send me flowers, alive or otherwise, I wasn’t fooled.”
“Did they come with a note?”
“No.”
I visually inspect the roses that could have been bought anywhere. But applying some of the knowledge I’d learned from Pops, their severely wilted state meant they had to be older than a few days, or their death had been hastened by water deprivation or, quite possibly, extreme heat.
I take the box with me to the kitchen. It’s also generic, with no identifying markings. The PO Box return address is likely bogus. The only lead is the courier company—Same Day Express. The police won’t make this a priority. There’s not much to go on.
