Page 17 of Dangerous Obsession

She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to relax them.

“Gee, thanks a lot.” Marigold did her best to hide the fact she’d just experienced a mini freak-out.

“Marigold Evelyn Hartnett.” Dulce used her newly acquired mom voice.

“Okay, fine.” No way could she hide this from her best friend, so she told her about the note.

“Wolf! Marigold got a creepy note at the shop today.” Dulce called out to her husband using the nickname she’d given him during what they both thought would be a one-night stand. Obviously, it ended up being much more than that. “I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

“Hey, Marigold.” Cole’s deep voice filled her ears. “Go ahead and read the note for me.”

“Sure.” She picked the paper up from where it had fluttered to the floor between the couch and coffee table and read it aloud.

“Here’s the thing—Dulce and Cliff are the only people who know I love yellow and sunflowers, and he is the only person who ever called me Goldie.” At the beginning—when things were good—he would surprise her with bouquets of sunflowers. “The note is written in black ink.” She examined it closely. “But I don’t think it’s his handwriting. It’s neater, more … uniform in size.”

“Where are you right now?” Cole asked.

“I’m at home, and yes, the doors are locked and the alarm is set.” He asked her that every time she and Dulce spoke.

Marigold was still getting used to having someone in her life—besides her best friend and her best friend’s parents—who gave a crap about her and who took her safety seriously.

If only her own parents cared about her as much as Sebastian and Hanna Houldcroft did. The first few times Cliff got angry and pushed her, Marigold called her folks and told them about it. She didn’t have any marks on her at that point, so they blew it off and basically accused her of overreacting. The last time she went to her mother for help, she’d asked if Marigold did something to set him off. Like not folding his laundry exactly how he wanted was a good enough reason to push her only daughter around. In their eyes, he could do no wrong. The fact Cliff’s family had money definitely skewed her scheming father’s opinion of him.

Then they’d filed for divorce, and she’d learned pretty quickly that she couldn’t count on them and cut off contact. In doing so, she became even more isolated, which made it easier for Cliff to continue victimizing her.

“Okay, good.” Cole interrupted her annoying trip down memory lane. “Do me a favor and put the envelope and note in a Ziploc bag. We might be able to lift some prints or DNA off of them.” OSI had its own forensics team, which included Dr. Beatrice Parker, soon-to-be Beatrice O’Halleran, a world-renowned forensic pathologist with access to some of the most high-tech equipment. “Do you happen to have any samples of his handwriting?”

“I think I might have something upstairs.” She’d kept a couple of the sweeter cards he’d given her when they first met. Those, along with the scars he’d left on her body, were visual reminders to never again fall for flowery words and false promises.

“Okay, grab one, if you can.” Cole asked, “How much longer is Barnum supposed to be in prison?”

“He’s not supposed to get out for at least another six months.” When he first went to prison, she called her victim’s advocate at least once a week to make sure he was still locked up. Finally, she’d accepted it was true and did her best to rebuild her life.

“I’m going to have my dad call the warden.” Dulce’s dad had contacts everywhere. “He can find out what’s happening with Dickweed.”

“No, I don’t want to bug your dad with this.” He had way more important things to tend to. Like fighting for stronger penalties for people involved with child sex trafficking. “Maybe it’s just someone playing a sick practical joke.”

“Yeah, like you really believe that.” Her friend saw through her so easily.

“We’ll have the warden pull the visitor logs for Barnum,” Cole said. “Could be he’s got someone on the outside helping him out. Did you check the surveillance camera footage?”

“I didn’t even think of that.” She was too busy freaking out. “Hang on, I can pull it up using the app on my tablet.”

She hurried to her bag and slipped the tablet from the padded pocket. After a couple of taps and swipes of the screen, she found the footage from the night before and fast-forwarded to where someone set off the motion-sensor spotlight.

“Okay.” She checked the time on the screen. “At two eighteen, a man in dark jeans and a hoodie approached the door and set off the spotlight. He slipped the envelope beneath the mat, which is where I found it, then ran off across the street.” She sat back, frustrated. “But I can’t see his face.”

“Marigold, go ahead and send me the surveillance footage for the past week,” Cole said. “I’ll have Sammy work her magic on it.”

“Hang on.” She tapped, swiped, and with awhoosh, the footage went across the ether. “Just sent it.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Marigold, why don’t you come stay with us until we figure this out?” Dulce played her ace in the hole. “Carter misses his Auntie Marigold and would love to see you.”

“I’d love to, and I miss him, too, but I can’t right now.” She told her about her employee quitting.

“Are you serious? She quit? After all the things you’ve done to accommodate her?” Dulce scoffed. “Good riddance.”

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