Page 55 of Bed of Roses

I can’t call Derek. He wouldn’t believe me any more than the cops, and he’d just demand the binder again. I could call Cole, but I don’t want to bother him, and he doesn’t know the full story yet. He only knows the beginning of the haunting, and we haven’t talked about it since.

Decision made, I pull up Tori’s contact and bring it to my ear. It rings almost until the voicemail answers, but she picks up, and her groggy voice comes through.

“Tegan, it’s the middle of the fucking night.”

“Tori!” I nearly shout, dashing back to the window, but he’s not there. There’s no evidence that he was, except for the rose petals drifting away across the grass.

“What?”

“He was here,” I whisper feverishly.

“Who?”

“Neil Wordon.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Oh god, I’m going crazy. That’s what this is. He knows I’m crazy, so he’s haunting me. Knows I’m afraid of death, so he’s playing with me.”

“Slow down,” she coos. She pauses, and I can hear a light being flicked on through the phone. “Tell me what happened.”

“Neil!” I growl loudly. “He was at my window!”

“Just . . . wait. What?”

I nod like she can see me and step away from the window to pace the room. The light from the bathroom makes the corners of the room cast deep shadows. I glance wildly at them, terrified that Neil will be waiting in them. “He left rose petals on my bed, and then he was in my mirror, and then he was by the roses, and then he was at my window.”

“And you saw him? Are you sure?” There’s no disbelief in her voice, but I’m talking so fast that I know she’s trying to break it down.

“Yes! He brought petals with him. They’re still on the ground. I didn’t make this up, Tori. I swear to god.”

She shushes me like a child. “I know. I believe you.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and plop down on the edge of my bed.

“Do you ah - What did he want?”

I lift my head to the tote. “He looked at the binder.”

“The one you brought to work?”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Well,” she begins, blowing out a breath. “Whatever he wants from you has to do with that binder, Tegan.”

I flex my jaw as I stand from the bed and head to the dresser. Carefully, as though it’s made of glass, I slide the binder out. “You really think I should entertain him and what? Discover what he wants from the binder so that he can move on?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I think you should.”

As I head back to my bed with the binder, I murmur, “I should just turn this in.”

“Not until you help him move on. Otherwise, he’s going to continue to haunt you.”

“Right,” I whisper. “My therapist would be having a field day with this.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “The whole afraid of death thing?” she asks quietly.

“Well, yeah. I mean, he’d think my brain was making this up to deal with my fear.”

“Probably,” she says. “But he’d be wrong. Do you want me to come over so we can look together?”

I know she’s asking if I don’t want to be alone. But truth be told, and although it was scary at the time, I’m not as scared as I should be. “No, I’ll be fine,” I breathe. “I promise. I’m just going to go through this, and I’ll report back to you tomorrow.”

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