Page 123 of Stormswept Colorado

I marched across the driveway, right into the middle of their huddle, and grabbed the card from the flowers.

“Dude,” the delivery guy exclaimed. “You’re Ayla Maxwell.”

Teller was at my side like a shot. “What are you doing out here?”

“Finding out what I need to know.” I tore open the envelope. There was a card inside with a handwritten note, I assumed written by somebody working for the florist.

He’ll never be good enough for you.

A folded sheet of paper sat behind the note. I opened it. Yep, another printout of a photo. But this one showed Teller in his police uniform.

Heavily scribbled Xs blacked out his eyes.

Anger flooded my bloodstream. The previous messages had been bad enough. But this one seemed to be threatening Teller.

“You’re Christoper, right?” I asked the delivery driver. “I want to know who sent this. It’s extremely important.”

Christopher shook his head. “I don’t know. The order was called in yesterday, and the person gave a lot of instructions about printing out a photo or some shit, which is definitely weird. But it’s not our job to ask a bunch of questions.”

“Really? Even when somebody sends a photo like this?” I turned the image toward him.

Christoper’s eyes bugged. “Dude, that’s creepy.”

“You think?” Bryan asked.

Teller’s face was impassive.

“Somebody else prepped the order, and they probably figured it was a joke,” Christopher said. “I didn’t know.”

Teller pulled out his phone. Took a photo of the man’s ID. Then held the card out to return it. “Mention any of this to anyone, and we’ll know it was you. We’re going to call your employer and check your story.”

“Whatever you want. I don’t want nothing to do with this creepiness. I’m just going to make my deliveries and keep my mouth shut.”

He got in his truck, backed up, and drove off.

I pointed at the flowers. “Red daisies.”

Teller nodded. “I noticed.”

“What does that mean?” Bryan asked.

I waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that. Can you check the flowers? Make sure there’s nothing hidden inside? Unless you two want to call a bomb squad or something.”

Teller arched an eyebrow at me. “Not funny.”

“I’m not laughing either.” Bryan grabbed a pair of gloves and carefully poked around. “It’s clean. Nothing here.”

Like the others.

I was so damn sick of this.

Bryan stood up, backing away from the flowers. “You want me to toss them? Or?—”

I charged over, picked up the arrangement and started tearing the stems out. Once all the flowers were scattered on the driveway, I stomped them into the concrete. Last, I dropped the terracotta planter. It cracked in half.

“Sorry about the mess.”

Bryan and the other security guy just stared.

---