Page 88 of Jack

I sit in the extremely uncomfortable chair by the bed and reach for Lily’s hand. “Hey, angel.” I press my lips to the back of her hand.”

I slide closer and place my palm against her cheek. A quick glance at the monitors doesn’t give me anything. I don’t understand what all the numbers mean anyway. I focus on her instead and gently rub my thumb across her cheek.

“You look beautiful today, angel.”

She’s beautiful every day, even with black eyes and a bruised nose. Her skin is starting to get its color back. Just yesterday, she was too pale, ghostly white. I never want to see her like that again. Today, her cheeks are a little pink. That has to be a good sign. I want to stay with her, but I have business to take care of.

I stand and kiss her forehead. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, angel. You rest.”

I quietly follow Dad out the door. Surprisingly, Mom comes with us.

“Mom, I don’t want to leave her alone. What if she wakes and no one’s there?”

“I’ll sit with her.” Lil Mama rushes past us into Lily’s room.

That might not be a good idea.

“It’s fine, Jack.” Mom walks into the waiting room like everything really is fine.

I motion between Big Papa and Lily’s door. “You go in there and keep your ole’ lady in line.”

“Uh. Yeah, sure.” Big Papa doesn’t sound so sure, but he goes into Lily’s room with his wife.

Worley Bird closes the door behind me. I’m the last to enter. Once again, it’s just my family and brothers in the little waiting room. Jay, Bankz, and Hendrix are here. They must have been right behind us. I don’t want to know how they cleaned that field up. It’s probably best I don’t.

“What kind of flowers were delivered this time?” If the flowers are messages, I don’t think I wanna know what this one means.

“The same as the last delivery to the bakery.” Mom opens a gold box like the long-stemmed roses were in from the first delivery.

White lilies and red roses with slightly wilted petals lay on red satin in the center of the box from the top to the bottom. Black dahlias lay over those. Emily was right. These flowers don’t go together. They weren’t meant to. They deliver a message. Lily’s name. A lost love. Death.

Another message I get from this is that Joel Clark won’t stop coming for Lily. He doesn’t want her. He wants to destroy her and end her life. Not on my watch. I failed Lily twice already. It won’t happen a third time. Jay’s right, too. I don’t need to play games and ask questions. Well, the right questions to the right people need to be asked. The men who came after me and hurt Lily deserve no mercy. Her abuser deserves nothing, not even the air surrounding him right now.

“Delivery details. What have we got? Can we link it to him? Is he in Willow Creek?” These are the only answers I need.

“No, son. He’s in LA. Nick has him on traffic cameras outside his office today.” Dad ends my biggest fear at the moment.

“These weren’t a personal delivery this time,” Worley Bird adds.

“Since he’s not here, it was an online order.” Mom puts the lid back on the box. She can’t stand looking at them any more than I can.

“He used Blooms and Bows again. Sandy called us the moment she saw the order. The flowers never made it to Lily’s room.” Dad gives a firm nod.

I rub the back of my neck. He knows she’s in the hospital. Great.

“So, Sandy got his email and credit card this time?” I really wanna get my hands on this man.

The other orders were paid with a prepaid Visa gift card. Hopefully, Nick had more to work with this time.

“He still used a Visa gift card to pay, but since he had to fill out the entire online form this time, he used a fake name and email address. He’s a sick man, son. The email address used part of Lily’s name.” Dad presses his lips together and shakes his head.

“That is sick.” It’s beyond sick, and it turns my stomach. It proves he’s obsessed with Lily, but how does it link to Clark if it was in Lily’s name?

“Nick used the order form and the email to trace the IP address. It went to Joel Clark’s office.” Mom smiles. I swear she just read my mind.

“So we got him? The flower deliveries won’t prove anything to the cops, so we haven’t told the Sheriff about the flowers. But we know it’s him. No doubts.” Worley Bird offers me a black backpack.

“What’s this?”

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