Page 52 of Before the Night Falls
He grabbed his phone and made a call. A moment later, he turned back to them.
“Hobbes said they were delivered with a note asking they be placed in your room, Olivia,” Tyson said. “I didn’t tell him anything about the roses, so he didn’t know your history.”
More silence stretched.
“It’s time to call the police,” Wes said quietly. “You’ve gotten three sets now—if you include the ones at Tyson’s office.”
She pulled her arms tight across her chest. “They’ll think I’m crazy.”
“No, they won’t,” Chandler added. “I’ll call them for you.”
She started to argue but stopped.
There was no use.
When Chandler stepped away to make the call, Tyson moved closer, his studious gaze on her. “You’re shaking.”
“I’ll be okay. It’s nothing I haven’t been through before.” Her voice sounded dull as she said the words.
Tyson rubbed her back with one hand, soothing her nerves. She felt safe with him near, as if nothing and no one could hurt her.
If only that were true.
“The police are on their way.” Chandler joined them again.
Olivia picked up her cell phone—she didn’t see any reason to leave it on the floor. “Whoever left these called me.”
Wes’ eyes widened. “What? How’d he get your number?”
Olivia shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“What did he say?” Tyson asked.
“He asked me if I liked the roses he sent.”
Wes muttered something under his breath before pacing away from her. “He’s sick. It’s gotta be a copycat or someone who wants to mess with your head. Olivia, have you thought about wrapping up this show early and heading back to New York? Maybe your best bet is to get away from all this.”
“Going back to New York might not be a bad idea, Olivia.” Tyson’s voice sounded grim as he said the words.
She considered leaving for another moment.
But fear had dictated far too many of her actions already.
No more.
“It’s my call, and I’m staying. I’m finishing this assignment. I’m finishing this nutrition plan, even if it kills me.” As soon as the wordkillleft her lips, Olivia regretted saying it.
But her statement very well could be the truth.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
When the police arrived,Detective Scarborough introduced himself.
The man was in his fifties with a nearly bald head, shaggy eyebrows, and an equally shaggy brown mustache.
Olivia sat down with him in Tyson’s office. She explained the situation—including what had happened in her past.
Tyson had already checked the security camera footage and, sure enough, a delivery guy had left the flowers, and Hobbes had picked them up.
