Amy had gone out with Nanci to a spa today, so I was doing the rounds of the businesses in town. Inglorious was checking our outside ones. Bow, wearing jeans and a sheriff’s department tan shirt, headed toward me.
“How are you settling in?” I asked as he approached.
“Like I’ve never been away,” he retorted.
“Yeah, I know that feeling. Anything you require?”
“Peace and quiet, but ain’t gonna get that, am I?”
“Nope. Glad you’re back though, brother.”
Bow looked at me. “Guess I’m happy to see your ugly mug, too. Need you for something. It was delivered half an hour ago.”
I followed Bow to the sheriff’s office, where Drew was on the phone. In front of him was a black wreath with familiar words. “RIP Amy,” I muttered, and anger surged.
Who the fuck was this? Was it a stalker, or the guy who blew up the zeppelin? I was furious now. Someone was pressing all my buttons and then some.
Drew hung up and frowned. “It was paid for in cash. Slipped through the letterbox overnight. A short note saying they had to leave town on an emergency, but could the florist deliver a wreath here with those words? There was money in the envelope.”
“Guess we won’t get fingerprints from it,” Bow said.
“Nope, it’s been binned, and the trash was emptied this morning.”
“Fuck,” I snarled.
“Who’s on Amy and Nanci?” Drew asked.
“Rory and Razor,” I replied. As much as I wanted to tear the wreath to pieces, it wouldn’t help me. “I’ll reach out and let them know. Any cameras in the shop?”
“Yeah. Shows a male figure in a hoodie, with no clear shot of his face. The manager checked while I was on the phone,” Drew stated.
“Is this ever going to stop?” I asked no one in particular.
“The Feds released the suspect’s picture today. Maybe someone will recognise him,” Bow said.
I could only hope so.
Drew’s phone rang, and he picked up. His voice changed, and he looked worried. He barked out a reply and hung up.
“That wreath was a sign. Somebody drove Amy’s Papa off the road an hour ago. Phil is fine, but the car’s been totalled.”
“Fuckin’ hell!” I exploded and punched the wall.
My knuckles split as I hit it a second time.
“This ain’t no movie plot. Someone is trying to kill the survivors!” I snarled.
“For one of two reasons, they want to make the movie real life, or it’s the bomber. But I don’t see why he’d continue to chase them, not now his picture is plastered everywhere,” Bow said.
“But it wasn’t until today. Maybe the demented bastard doesn’t know yet,” Drew argued.
I turned and stared out of the bulletproof window. It was too dangerous to remain here. I needed to get Amy away from the public eye for a few days.
“The Feds will want to put Amy into protective custody,” Drew said.
“They can go fuck themselves,” I retorted.
“Guessed you’d say that, but Amy needs to be given the option,” Drew argued.
