Page 37 of Before the Night Falls
“Then tell the FBI. They know your story.”
She frowned. “I’d rather not.”
“What if you get more flowers?”
She pressed her eyes closed. “I don’t want to think about it.”
Wes held her gaze until finally saying, “I understand that. But you may have to.”
“I’ll be careful.” She couldn’t overreact—not until she knew something for sure. “I’ll wait to see if I get more roses first. If I do, I’ll tell the police.”
Wes appeared skeptical but finally nodded and leaned back. “Is there anyone who’s been giving you a hard time? Anyone you can think of who might have done this?”
Olivia blew out a breath. “Not really. I mean, who would hate me this much? I take that back. Being a media personality has made plenty of people hate me.”
“But to do this?” He pressed his lips together and grimaced.
“I know . . .”
“What can I do for you?”
“Tell everyone I don’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day, please. I’ve already recorded the footage we need, and I have a million emails, texts, and messages to catch up on. Seems like a good day to do that.”
Wes squeezed her knee. “I’m here if you need me, darling.”
A smile touched her lips. “I know. Thanks, Wes.”
* * *
Olivia held true to her word and stayed in her room the rest of the day.
She tried to keep herself busy with work. But her thoughts stayed on those flowers.
Should she report them to the police? They’d only think she was crazy. What was so threatening about receiving roses? The words sounded ludicrous to her own ears.
The roses had to be either a joke or from someone determined to be a copycat of The Admirer, she concluded. Nothing else made sense.
The man who’d terrorized her was dead.
He had been for more than a year.
Her doubts all returned again. She’d been trying to push them away.
Maybe that was the wrong choice, however.
When she’d seen a picture of Brian Elliot, nothing about him had seemed familiar. She’d even watched a video of him that had been taken at his worksite for a promo video—a video that had quickly been taken down.
But as she’d watched his mannerisms, she’d realized his movements didn’t seem familiar.
Wouldn’t she recognize his motions?
She wasn’t sure.
But the possibility that the police had somehow gotten the wrong man was something she couldn’t deny—and one that had lingered in her mind for a long time.
* * *
Olivia looked at the digital clock beside the bed and saw it was 1:14 a.m. She closed her eyes, wishing for sleep to come, but it wouldn’t.
