Page 57 of Bed of Roses

I shake my head. “No. I believe you. It’s - uh - just strange.”

Her shoulders sag with relief. “Good, because otherwise, I’d show you the rose petals all over my bed.”

“On your bed?” I repeat.

She nods again. “I haven’t cleaned them up yet. Do you want to see them?”

My skin rises in goosebumps because she has direct evidence that something did happen here. Instead ofanswering her though, because I’m not sure I want anything to do with a ghost other than those of my past, I grab my mug and step toward her and the binder. “Did you find what he wanted?”

Her expression brightens, and she turns back toward the binder. She grabs a packet of papers held together by a paperclip. “This.”

“What is it?”

“Emails,” she whispers. “Between Derek and Neil.”

“What are they about?”

She blows out a breath and leafs through the papers. “They’re mostly copies of what Derek sent Neil. They’re all threats though.”

“What kind of threats?” I ask as I lean forward to catch a few words.

“Death threats.”

I raise my gaze to hers. “Why?” After last night, I’m not surprised that Derek would threaten his brother, but the question is: Why would he feel the need to?

She shrugs a little. “He wanted on the living will.” She drops the packet back into the binder and crosses her arms back over her chest. “He did it, Cole.”

Picking back up my coffee, I lift the mug to my lips, humoring her. “He did what?”

The paper crinkles as she jabs it with a finger. “He killed Neil.” I give her a look of disbelief, so she prattles on. “The emails, death threats, restraining order. . . I mean, come on, Derek has a reward to find his killer.”

“You think Derek put out the reward, knowing it would never be cashed out?”

She nods vigorously. “You said yourself that he’s a cheap man.”

I consider this for a moment. By rights, it would be a good story if he promised a reward to get suspicion off hisback. Nobody suspected him to begin with, but maybe that’s the reason why. He was willing to put up a shit ton of money . . .

“What do you think?” she asks quietly. “Do you believe me?”

I prop a hip on the counter. “It’s possible. But there’s nothing you can do about it until you call the cops and turn this over. They’ll definitely look into it.”

A small smile pulls at the corners of her lips as she says, “I already did. The sheriff should be here any minute.”

My nostrils flare. I don’t want anything to do with Smith, but it would make sense why he’d take the call. “You didn’t tell him about the ghost, did you?”

She scowls. “I’m not stupid. He thinks his brother is still alive.”

“He may not after what he finds in the binder.”

“Yeah,” she says, sighing. “I hate to be the one who hands him the evidence that Neil is dead. I mean, heisdead, but it’s going to break Sheriff Smith’s heart.”

“There’s nothing you can do about that,” I add, reaching and shutting the binder.

She zips it up and steps toward me, curling her body against mine. I set the mug back down and kiss the top of her head while wrapping my arms around her waist. We stand there like that, both of us thinking over the possibilities of what Tegan discovered, all the way up until a knock sounds at the door.

She pulls away and picks up the binder. “That’ll be him.”

I follow her out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and to the front door. She opens it with the binder tucked into the crook of her arm. By now, the sun is fully risen, and the reflection of it shines glaringly against Smith’s black hat.

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