Page 3 of Rogue's Path
Congrats!
Maverick & Dahlia
That’s sweet. It’s even cuter because they’re writing as a married couple now. The next vase is filled with soft pink and cream flowers and a small amount of greenery. This one I set down on the table next to the other. I reach for my purse to give the driver a tip, but they’re already on their way back to the truck for another set of flowers.
Happy Release Day!
Your Writing Group!
Awww! That’s sweet. We should have a fun name for our writing group. Lazy. It’s just plain lazy of us not to have one already. That’s going to be a line item for our next group chat.
“This is the last one.” She holds out a vase full of the deepest red roses I’ve ever seen. There must be four dozen in the arrangement.
“Are you sure you grabbed the right one?” There isn’t anyone in my life that would send me red roses.
“Yes. This one is yours. The man was very specific with his requests. Congratulations, that man really loves you.”
Loves me?
No one loves me.
And I certainly don’t love anyone.
I hand her the tip and take the massive arrangement. There isn’t room left on the table by the door, so I walk over to the kitchen counter.
Who could possibly have sent these?
There’s a card in among the velvety petals.
My dearest love Dylan,
Every moment away from you torments my soul. I can’t wait until we’re together. The words you wrote to me keep me strong until we’re able to reenact them.
Your Only Love
My hands start to shake. Stalkers exist.
But I never thought it would ever be me.
The police. I need to call the police.
***
“Since there hasn’t been a threat…”
Hasn’t been a threat? “The scene in the book he’s referencing included a woman being tied to a bed and then murdered.”
“You don’t know that is what was being referred to for sure. We need a direct threat. The police department will do afew drive-bys, but that’s all we can do until there’s a credible threat. I suggest you make sure to lock your doors and only answer to people who you know.” The officer closes his notebook and walks towards the door. “Here’s my card. Call me if anything changes.”
How am I supposed to call you if this guy kidnaps me?
My house empties out as fast as it filled up.
A stalker. I have a stalker. It happens when you’re a celebrity, even a small one like me. I know that. I’ve heard of other authors having them. But I’m careful. My pen name is my real first name and a fake last name. Everything business-wise is done through an LLC that’s managed by a lawyer so that nothing ties back to me.
How did he find me?
This crazy guy knows where I live.
