Page 12 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
When seconds ticked by in silence, I had my answer. “When?”
“Last week. A bouquet arrived at the office, addressed to you. The notecard was one of those generic occasion ones. It wasn’t signed.”
“What did it say?”
“Tell her I’m thinking about her.”
My blood chilled. “Did you take it to the police?”
“No. I called the detective in charge of your case. He said there’s nothing they can do. Sending flowers isn’t a crime, there was nothing threatening about it, might just be a well-wisher, blah, blah, blah.”
Maybe the police didn’t consider it a threat, but I knew better.
“Same as always then.”
“Pretty much.”
“You’re taking extra precautions, right?”
“Of course, but as far as anyone knows, I haven’t seen or talked to you since you left.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. I couldn’t bear it if anything else happened to you because of me, Ang.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
Telling me not to worry was pointless. She knew that. But we pretended anyway.
“I hope whoever is in your bed is treating you right.”
“He is—for now.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Angie went through men like I went through romance novels. In my personal experience, I found book boyfriends to be far less disappointing than the real thing. And the sex in books was way hotter than I’d ever experienced. Not that I’d had a lot of experience, but I wasn’t exactly virginal either. I wasselective. Or at least, I had been before I decided to become transient.
I guessed that made me kind of a hobo. Like Jack Reacher, one of my favorite fictional heroes. Unlike Jack, however, I wasn’t a badass. Or getting any.
“I’ll call again soon, okay?”
“Okay. I miss you, Case.”
“I miss you too.”
I disconnected the call, then turned off the phone. I’d run over it with my car in the morning, then drop it in a recycle box at one of those big electronic stores eventually. There wasn’t any place like that around Shadow Ridge—that was for sure.
After finishing the last of my warm milk, I pulled a blanket over me and curled deeper into the sofa. I stared at the flames and let them lull me to sleep.
When I come to,I have no idea where I am or what is happening. My head is pounding, and my ears are ringing. I don’t know how I got here. I’m vaguely conscious but very groggy. I can’t speak. I can’t move my arms or legs.
I am cold though. Brutally cold. And wet.
I’m on the ground. Rain is pouring down, hitting my face, going up my nose, and filling my mouth each time I try to take a breath.
I force my eyes open. I can’t focus. My vision is fuzzy. Lightning flashes, blinding me for a moment.
A loud crack of thunder rends the air almost immediately.
My self-preservation instincts urge me to do something, anything. I summon up every bit of strength I have and will myself to flip over and curl into a ball before I drown in the deluge.
I must black out again because the next thing I know, I’m rolling down a wet, grassy embankment, unable to stop myself or slow down. Pain explodes in my head as I slam into something hard and immovable, followed by white-hot splinters piercing the back of my skull.
