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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Olivia escaped to her room, trying also to flee the memories.

It didn’t work.

They hit her at full force. Visions of finding roses at her doorstep just over a year ago. Memories of the terror that followed.

Her breath came out in labored spasms as she fought to remain in control.

“Olivia,” Wes called from outside her door. “Can I come in?”

“I guess.” She hugged her legs to her chest as she sat on her bed leaning against the headboard.

Wes came inside and gently lowered himself beside her. “I looked through the box.”

She figured he would. Wes was protective of her and wouldn’t just let this slide, as much as she wished otherwise.

“And?” Her voice caught. Did she want to know?

“It was a dozen red roses, no note.”

Olivia hugged her legs more tightly. She desperately wanted to wake up and realize that this was just another one of her nightmares.

Only she knew it wasn’t.

This was real.

Wes’ eyes met hers. “I think we should call the police.”

Olivia shook her head. “What would I say to them? Officer, I got a dozen roses. Please arrest whoever sent them to me.”

His expression remained stony. “Based on what happened . . .”

“It’s probably a joke.”

“Then tell the FBI. They know your story.”

She frowned. “I’d rather not.”

“What if you get more flowers?”

She pressed her eyes closed. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Wes held her gaze until finally saying, “I understand that. But you may have to.”

“I’ll be careful.” She couldn’t overreact—not until she knew something for sure. “I’ll wait to see if I get more roses first. If I do, I’ll tell the police.”

Wes appeared skeptical but finally nodded and leaned back. “Is there anyone who’s been giving you a hard time? Anyone you can think of who might have done this?”

Olivia blew out a breath. “Not really. I mean, who would hate me this much? I take that back. Being a media personality has made plenty of people hate me.”

“But to do this?” He pressed his lips together and grimaced.

“I know . . .”

“What can I do for you?”

“Tell everyone I don’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day, please. I’ve already recorded the footage we need, and I have a million emails, texts, and messages to catch up on. Seems like a good day to do that.”

Wes squeezed her knee. “I’m here if you need me, darling.”

A smile touched her lips. “I know. Thanks, Wes.”

* * *

Olivia held true to her word and stayed in her room the rest of the day.

She tried to keep herself busy with work. But her thoughts stayed on those flowers.

Should she report them to the police? They’d only think she was crazy. What was so threatening about receiving roses? The words sounded ludicrous to her own ears.

The roses had to be either a joke or from someone determined to be a copycat of The Admirer, she concluded. Nothing else made sense.

The man who’d terrorized her was dead.

He had been for more than a year.

Her doubts all returned again. She’d been trying to push them away.

Maybe that was the wrong choice, however.

When she’d seen a picture of Brian Elliot, nothing about him had seemed familiar. She’d even watched a video of him that had been taken at his worksite for a promo video—a video that had quickly been taken down.

But as she’d watched his mannerisms, she’d realized his movements didn’t seem familiar.

Wouldn’t she recognize his motions?

She wasn’t sure.

But the possibility that the police had somehow gotten the wrong man was something she couldn’t deny—and one that had lingered in her mind for a long time.

* * *

Olivia looked at the digital clock beside the bed and saw it was 1:14 a.m. She closed her eyes, wishing for sleep to come, but it wouldn’t.

Finally, she threw the covers off and got out of bed. She still wore her exercise outfit from earlier. Throwing a sweatshirt over her clothes, she opened the door to the room.

She needed some fresh air.

She slipped down the hallway and out the back door.

Maybe going outside at this hour wasn’t smart. She didn’t know.

But she’d felt safe out here. Plus, she knew Tyson had security.

She wasn’t sure if he’d always had so many precautions in place or if it was only since she’d arrived. Either way, she wasn’t complaining.

Besides, looking at the miles and miles of trees and hills around her felt refreshing. And the patio she most enjoyed was nestled in a corner with two walls on either side of her.

Just to be safe, she brought her pepper spray and her phone.

She prayed she wouldn’t have to use either. Prayed that this jokester who’d sent the flowers had gotten his laughs and would now back off.

Olivia walked to a cushioned patio chair and was about to sit down when she realized someone else was already out here.

She could feel it.

Drawing in a quick breath, she grasped the edge of the chair, her knuckles white with intensity.

She’d thought this would be harmless.

She was wrong.

Coming out here was a terrible idea.

She gripped her pepper spray as she prepared herself to act.