Page 8 of Ghosted Cowboy
I did. Let her walk away. Wanted to call after her but didn't know what words would possibly be enough.
I stood there in the empty backstage area, surrounded by props and costumes and the ghosts of old performances. Movement caught my eye—up in one of the side boxes, second tier. Just a flicker, a shape pulling back into shadow.
I stared up at the darkened box. The theater had cleared out. Everyone was gone.
Except apparently not everyone.
I climbed the narrow stairs to the upper level, boots echoing on old wood. But when I reached the box, I found nothing but dust-covered seats and darkness.
Still. Someone had been up here. I'd bet money on it.
I made my way back down and wondered if coming back to Midnight Springs had been the biggest mistake of my life.
Or maybe leaving in the first place had been the mistake, and coming back was the only chance I'd ever have to make it right.
Either way, I was staying. Whether Rainey Bell wanted me to or not.
I just had to figure out how to prove to her that this time, I meant it. This time, I wasn't going anywhere.
Even if it killed me.
Chapter Three
Rainey
The dead roses were there Saturday morning, black petals scattered across the shop's doorstep. A dozen of them, tied with a fraying red ribbon, left where anyone walking down Main Street could see them.
Two days since that first rehearsal with Ransom, and I hadn't stopped thinking about him.
A knot formed in my stomach.
I bent down, fingers hesitating before touching the bouquet. The petals crumbled at my touch, releasing that sickly-sweet scent of decay. Tucked among the stems was a note, the handwriting spidery:You were beautiful in red.
My skin crawled. I'd worn red to rehearsal Thursday night—a vintage blouse I'd chosen from the shop's inventory. Someone had been watching. Someone had been close enough to notice details.
"Rainey!" Ellie Wilson's voice cut through my thoughts. My best friend ran across the square from Sweet Dreams Bakery, her apron still dusted with flour. "What is that? Are those—oh my God, are those dead roses?"
I stood, the note crumpling in my fist. "Found them now."
Ellie reached me, breathing hard. Her blonde curls had escaped their bun, and her blue eyes were wide with concern. "Who would do this? This is creepy as hell."
"I don't know." But I had suspects. Brooke's face with her pageant-perfect smile flashed through my mind. Or maybe Dee Dee, escalating her pressure tactics? "Could be someone's idea of a Halloween prank."
"That's not a prank. That's a threat." Ellie grabbed my arm. "You need to tell Sheriff Turley."
