Page 12

CHAPTER 11

T RINA

I stare down at the text messages on my phone, my hands shaking. The flowers stopped coming after the station staff declined two bouquets. I had one week of peace. Only one.

After that is when the hang up calls started. At first, they came from the same number but when I blocked that number, they started coming from another.

I should have told Ben about them when we had that late lunch in Meadow Creek last week. But I didn’t. I convinced myself maybe they were wrong numbers. Thirty-two calls in a week, though…

And now I have three text messages.

Unknown: You could have told me you don’t like flowers. I wonder if you know how shitty it feels to have a gift rejected like that. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but you’re not making it easy.

I didn’t respond, and two hours passed. Another came, and I opened it.

Unknown: Nothing to say? No apology? Perhaps you’re a dick tease and a heartless bitch like so many of your gender. I’m running out of patience.

I stand staring at the phone for twenty minutes after that text, unable to move. When the phone dings again, I jump.

Unknown: I’m sorry, love. I don’t mean to be short with you. I thought we’d be together by now and it’s getting hard to wait. Please forgive me.

This person is unhinged.

My hands are unsteady as I search my contacts and press the call button.

“Hello?”

I’m unsure why, but when I hear Ben’s voice, something inside me calms.

“Ben?” My voice trembles and tears fill my eyes.

“Trina? What’s wrong? What happened?” His pitch increases and the strain in his voice is audible.

“I… I need to talk to you. Can I come over to?—”

“Are you safe? I can be at your house in fifteen minutes.”

Relief floods me and I try not to dwell on why. “I’m safe. Are you sure you’re not busy?”

“Even if I was, I would leave for you. I’ll be there in fifteen. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

Yes .

“No. I’m okay. I’ll see you soon.” When we hang up, I note the time on my watch and head to my bathroom to wash my face. Afterward, I walk to the kitchen to brew a half pot of coffee. I remember Ben used to like an afternoon cup most days and, even if he doesn’t still, I need something to do until he arrives.

Almost exactly fifteen minutes from when he said he’d be here, there’s a knock on my door. Not just any knock, the knock Ben used to use when he’d come to my apartment all those years ago. I can’t help but smile a little no matter how stressed I am, and I open the door.

“You didn’t even ask who it was,” he immediately says.

“I knew it was you.” I step back and motion for him to come in, securing the locks once he’s inside.

“Oh, really? How?”

I probably shouldn’t tell him this, but screw it, I’m about to be more vulnerable with him than I’m comfortable with, anyway. “It was your knock,” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ben’s breath hitches. “You remember my knock?”

I only shrug in response and head to my kitchen, expecting him to follow. “Do you want coffee? Then maybe we can sit on the back porch.”

“Sure,” he answers from behind me.

He leans against the granite countertop and watches me closely as I make our cups. After I pour them and move to put the creamer for mine away, he picks up both mugs. I could tell him I can carry my own, but it seems petty, so I simply lead the way to the back porch.

To his credit, Ben doesn’t pressure me to tell him what’s wrong. He simply sips his coffee, sneaking glances at me, and waits patiently for me to speak.

“So, someone has contacted me.” I wrap my hands around my warm mug to still them. It’s comfortable out for mid-May at sixty-five degrees and sunny. My porch roof keeps the sun from directly shining on us, though, so the hot coffee is nice.

“More flowers?” His voice is gentle, cautious.

“No. There were two more delivery attempts after we talked to the chief, but they were both declined. And after, there was nothing for about a week.”

As if there was a calendar up in the air in front of him, I watch as Ben’s eyes look up and move around and I can tell he’s working out the dates.

“A week? It should be two weeks if nothing has happened since the flowers stopped.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Okay. Don’t be mad, but after a week I started getting hang up calls.”

I watch as Ben closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and I appreciate that he’s not being a dick.

“How many? Five? Ten?”

“Thirty-two. In the last week. From two different numbers.”

Ben runs his hand through his hair and bites his lip. He stands and walks over to the porch railing, staring into the small backyard for a moment before he returns to his seat.

Right as he opens his mouth to speak, I blurt out, “That’s not all.”

* * *

BEN

I hold my fist over my mouth to keep from speaking as I stare down at the text messages on Trina’s phone. I’ve read the texts three times already and I’m concerned. Really fucking concerned.

Next to me, in my peripheral vision, I note Trina picking nervously at her cuticles.

Her voice is shaky when she says, “It’s bad, right?”

I set the phone on the small patio table between us and turn my body to face her. “I’m not going to lie to you, Trina. This really worries me.”

“Like on a scale of zero to ten, ten being the worst. How worried? Five?”

“More like an eight. Maybe nine.”

“Is that like a police detective eight? Or a personal eight?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “It’s a police detective eight. There’s not a scale high enough to measure my personal level of worry right now.”

She stares at me, not speaking for several long seconds. I watch her throat as she swallows what I imagine is a thick lump of discomfort at my confession.

“Hmm. Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll make sure I’m turning on the alarm system every night, then.”

I try really hard not to react to the fact that she implied she sometimes doesn’t turn on her alarm system. Jesus.

“I think we need to spend some time talking about who this could be. Trying to dig through your memories and make a list. And I’d like to check phone records if you’ll agree to that.”

She simply nods.

We spend the next hour trying to map out what her week typically looks like, where she goes, whether she has had any unusual encounters at her gym or during any of her usual activities. She denies this.

“Okay. Any enemies?”

That gets a laugh out of her, but I’m not amused. “Oh. You’re serious.” She tries to hold back her smile. “I have no enemies.”

Then it strikes me. Christ, how could I forget the kid I arrested who had given her shit a few months ago? He lost his job because of her.

“What about that kid? The one who got fired because of how he talked to you? Have you heard anything from him?”

“Um, no. And I’m pretty sure he probably hates me. This person sounds like he loves me one minute and hates me the next.”

“Still, I’m going to follow up and see what he’s been up to.”

She rolls her eyes like I’m crazy.

“Any recent exes? Or guys you’ve turned down for dates?”

“No.” Mere seconds later, her eyes change, and I can tell she remembers something.

She spends the next five minutes telling me about her encounter at the Valentine’s Day fundraiser with a cop from Meadow Creek—the same one she danced with on New Year’s Eve. After hearing about the interaction with her and her crew from A shift, he quickly tops my list of suspects.

I glance at my notes. Because I pretty much always carry a notepad with me. A detective never knows when something will pop up that is pertinent to a case. “Anyone else? We’ve covered enemies, guys you’ve turned down. You haven’t dated recently and?—”

I sense Trina tense next to me and turn to her, lifting a questioning eyebrow.

“I didn’t say I haven’t gone on dates.”

I’m speechless—and somewhat worried she is seeing someone—for several long seconds. I try to wipe any emotions from my face. “Okay, um, can you tell me about that?”

“I went on a few dates with someone in early March. Before I… before we maybe got married. I figured it wasn’t right to keep seeing him in case we really were married, so I ended it. But it was amicable.”

“Is that the only reason you ended it?” It’s unprofessional as fuck, but everything in me needs to hear whether she’d still be with this guy if it wasn’t for Vegas.

She shrugs but doesn’t break eye contact with me. “Who’s asking? Detective Donley or Ben?” Her voice is soft, but her gaze is intense.

After a few seconds, I open my mouth to answer her, to tell her it’s one hundred percent Ben asking, but before I can, the blaring of an alarm on her phone interrupts the moment.

She jumps up out of her chair. “Shit! I’ve got to get to Emily’s. I’m helping her meet with her realtor today, then we’re having dinner.”

I stand as well. “Trina, we have to finish this. It’s important.”

“Not letting down my sister is more important. So, either we pick this up in a few days when I’m off again or…” She slams her mouth shut and bites on her lower lip as if to stop herself from speaking.

“Or what?” I ask.

Trina huffs, picks up her phone and types away, making me suspect she’s sending a text message. She stares at the phone for a minute after she finishes and when the phone dings to alert her to an incoming message, she reads it and then slips the phone in her pocket.

“Or what?” I repeat.

“Or you come with me, and we talk on the way. But either way, I’m walking out that door in three minutes, so…”

“I’ll come with you.”

Once we’re in the car, Trina spends ten minutes giving me the list of dos and don’ts for the time we’re at Emily’s. When we pull up in front of Emily’s house and I shut off the SUV, I turn to her.

“I need to know who the guy you were seeing is. You said it ended amicable, but I still need to check into it.”

“It’s not him,” Trina says and moves to climb out of the vehicle. She has the door open and is halfway out when I gently grasp her wrist.

“Trina…”

She sighs and doesn’t turn her head to look at me when she answers. “It’s Darren. From plarning.”