“Hunter promised me coffee,” Rory whines again.
I scoff at him. “You’re a billionaire. Get your own damn coffee.”
Rory continues to mumble as he digs through the cabinets and the shower, while I go drawer by drawer through the dresser. I’ve been working my way from the bottom up. Savannah owns a lot of black.
My gaze wanders to Rory of its own accord. I can’t help it. Last night keeps replaying on a loop in my mind, and I have zero intention of making it stop.
When I get to the top drawer, I pull it open without thought, then pause.
More black, but it’s lacy and thin…
This feels like a violation of privacy, but then again, so was doing a deep dive into her background. Maybe adding this to the list won’t be a big deal.
Reaching to grab a thong, I bring it to my nose and inhale. Disappointment causes my shoulders to droop as I realize it doesn’t contain her scent because it’s clean.
Sighing, I snag some more, but then I find something else stashed in the drawer. Two velvet boxes. I set them on top of the dresser one at a time and open them.
“What the hell?” I utter to myself.
Rory must have heard me because he stomps out of the bathroom and to my side. “What is it?”
Tilting my head to the side, I gesture to the open boxes. “Hunter said she dated Nate, right? Does Nate buy jewelry for his girlfriends?”
“We’re talking about the same Nate Reed, right?” Rory scoffs.
“You have a point,” I concede. “Then who the hell bought these for Savannah?”
Rory leans, getting a closer look at the gold earrings and necklace. “Daisies? That seems a bit tacky.”
He’s right. Daisies aren’t something you buy for a lover. “I’m not sure it was a suitor who bought these.”
Rory turns to me. “Why not?”
“Men usually buy diamonds or heart-shaped jewelry. Daisies seem oddly specific.”
“Maybe a stalker? What about her father?” Rory suggests in question.
Shaking my head, I reply, “John doesn’t have internet access. That was part of his sentencing.”
“But someone like John Bartlett would be able to find a way around that,” Rory returns. “And if it’s not John, then who would it be? From what Savannah said the other day, it sounded like everyone she knew before shut her out.”
He has a point.
Something else catches my eye. I reach back into the drawer and take hold of little slips of paper.
“What are those?” Rory scrunches his brows.
Bring them closer to my face, I read aloud, “‘For the pure of heart who walk among the unholy’and ‘The Lord rejoices in what remains unspoiled,’ both are signed ‘Love, Your Shepherd.’”
“In the bible, the shepherd and John the Baptist aren’t the same person,” Rory points out.
Sighing, I set the papers on the dresser next to the velvet boxes. “Unless John sees himself differently now.”
“I don’t think so.” Rory’s lips purse.
I study the objects in front of us more. “Well, whoever Shepherd is, he seems wildly obsessed with Savannah’s virginity.”
Fucking creep.
