Hunter chews on the inside of his cheek, shaking the bag slightly at us. “I’m assuming Savannah doesn’t know you found these?”
“As far as we know.” I shrug.
Hunter nods. “I think we should keep it that way.”
“Secrets, secrets are no fun…” I trail off as I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet, uncomfortable with all the idea.
“Why? She clearly has a stalker,” Luke argues with Hunter.
I understand why Hunter wants to keep what we found on the down low. He likes to have all the facts before confrontation. But I understand Luke’s concern as well. This isn’t some slimy businessman we’re trying to get dirt on before getting into bed with him.
This is Savannah. She’s different. She’s my Dream Girl.
Hunter tilts his head toward Luke, with raised brows, “Or a grumpy ex-boyfriend.”
“An ex-boyfriend wouldn’t write notes that sound like a creepy-as-fuck pastor giving a Sunday School lesson.” Luke’s shoulders tense, and his jaw ticks with frustration.
I take a small step forward, putting myself between Luke and Hunter. I don’t think they’ll come to blows, but you never know. It’s not like we’ve been in this situation before. “Are we thinking the stalker and the attacker are the same person?”
“Seems most likely to me.” Luke drops his head at an angle.
“But what if it isn’t?” Hunter counters, playing devil’s advocate. He looks back at the bag in his hand. “Are these daisies?”
The tension in Luke deflates as he answers Hunter. “I think so. I’m not a botanist.”
“Why daisies?” Hunter narrows his eyes.
“Who knows?” I lift my hands at my sides, palms up.
“It has to have significance, especially since this Shepherd made sure the earrings and the necklace were the same flower.” Hunter looks closer, drawing in a slow, deliberate breath. “These are custom made.”
“What?” My head flinches back.
“How do you know?” Luke stands next to Hunter, searching for what he found.
“That.” Hunter points to something on the back of the delicate pendant.
Moving to get a look for myself, I squint to see the tiny jeweler’s logo. I recognize it instantly. It’s a simple, clean V stamp. “That’s Pascal Vireaux’s emblem. He owns Vireaux Atelier in the Diamond District.”
Hunter whips his head to me. “How do you know that?”
“Not just a pretty face,” I remark smugly, but Hunter and Luke aren’t amused. “I dated a woman who loved his stuff.”
“Could you—” Hunter starts.
“Meet with him and ask about who ordered the earrings and necklace?” I interrupt then snatch the bag away from Hunter. “Of course.”
“Luke, check CCTV footage and see if I can figure out who Shepherd is,” Hunter directs.
“We would need to ask Savannah when and where she received the jewelry. We don’t know if it was left for her at work, waiting on her doorstep, or something else,” Luke points out.
“We can’t,” Hunter insists. He paces back and forth for a minute, contemplating the posed problem. He finally stops, staring down at his feet. “I think it’s time we call in Hollis Calder.”
“Who is Hollis Calder?”
The three of us promptly turn our heads. Savannah stands there, dressed in tiny sleep shorts and a large shirt that hangs only on one shoulder. We stand there frozen in place like we were all caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
Savannah’s gaze watches us intently as we fumble for an answer to give her. I can tell the moment her eyes snag on the bag I’m holding.
