Undercover Husband. Rebecca Winters

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      I have lots of pictures of you, even from behind. I recognize your backpack. What was the name of that shampoo you use? I didn’t write it down. Was it, Swiss Formula? I ordered that polka tape from the library. I’m just getting over the flu. How’s Denise? Ask her to give me her address and phone number. I want yours, too, so I don’t have to sit down and write letters.

      In regard to the stuff I’ve sent in this letter, the Salt Lake Youth Hostel was a supplemental accommodation which means it lacks one or more basic elements of a hostel. It was open when I came through Salt Lake before. It couldn’t be much more than eight miles from your place. Some of the hostels listed on the map I’ve enclosed are no longer open.

      This is what’s new. I heard yesterday that my section at work is closed until there’s more funding which reading between the lines means I’ll probably be off work longer. Tuesdays are my rest days, so I will have enjoyed fifty-three days of happiness. Waiting for your letter.

      Until later, much love,

      Glen Baird 5972 Washington Court, Madison, WI 53701

      Roman read through the others and made a few brief comments into the mike, alternately appalled and fascinated by the disjointed, too intimate personal remarks interjected at random. Each letter became progressively angrier because it was obvious she hadn’t responded to anything.

      Finally he lifted his head, focusing his gaze on her once more. Brit met his level glance. Since reading the letters, his eyes seemed to have darkened a fraction.

      “You’re right. Considering that these letters are from a virtual stranger, they are terrifying.”

      “But Lieutenant Parker said—”

      “Forgive me for interrupting—” He lowered his voice. “The police get so many calls from people being harassed, it’s difficult for them to do a detailed investigation unless the situation warrants it, unless there’s an implicit threat to the victim.”

      “And my case isn’t like that.”

      “Let me finish looking at everything before I answer that question,” Roman murmured, applying himself once more to the task.

      The papers smelled of lilies. He picked up a plastic bag containing two dilapidated-looking trumpet lilies.

      “Those came in that Express Mail overnight letter this morning, along with the sympathy card. He obviously received my postcard.”

      Roman’s head flew back in consternation. “What postcard? I see no mention of it in the report.”

      “The one the investigating officer suggested I send to him, telling him I was getting married.”

      “Are you?” he fired back.

      “No. I don’t even have a boyfriend right now.”

      With a woman as intelligent and attractive as she was, it seemed a little hard to believe.

      “The officer thought a note like that might discourage him,” she continued to explain. “I picked a card with Sego Lilies on the front. They’re the state flower. I thought it would be impersonal, that he wouldn’t be able to read anything into it.”

      Roman’s lips thinned. To some weirdos, that would send up a red flag like nothing else.

      His reaction produced a moan from her. “It was the wrong thing to do, wasn’t it? I knew it.”

      “Let’s not worry about that now.”

      He picked up the sympathy card, which smelled heavily of the flowers.

      Those we hold most dear, never truly leave us.

      They live on in the kindness they showed, the comfort they shared,

      And the love they brought into our lives.

      May beautiful memories give you strength in those difficult hours ahead.

      Beneath the printed words on the inside was a line written in the man’s own hand. “I will write you no more. Forever!”

      The man writing this was acting like an adolescent who couldn’t handle rejection. Between the lines Roman could read the hurt.

      His hand reached for the letter folded inside the card. Unlike the others, this one was white type paper with pasted pieces of printed text to form the author’s macabre message. Each piece was a different shade of white, indicating he’d gotten his material from many sources.

      Brittany—

      The language of flowers may be combined and arranged to express the nicest shades of sentiment.

      Moss rosebud and myrtle a confession of love.

      White, pink, canary and laurel, your talent and perseverance will win you glory.

      Mignonette and colored daisy, your qualities surpass your charms of beauty.

      Columbine and lily, your folly and coquetry have broken the spell of your beauty.

      Did you know red rose means love, yellow rose friendship, white rose fear, pink rose indecision, green rose I’m from Mars, lily I’m dead, Crabgrass I just escaped from a mental institution, scallion I’m clueless.

      If a flower is offered reversed, its direct signification is likewise reversed so that the flower now means the opposite.

      Throughout the morass of cryptic lines, the word “lily” kept reappearing. Roman pondered the entry again.

      “‘Lily, your folly and coquetry have broken the spell of your beauty.’” He spoke out loud, feeling her eyes on him. “We can assume this was the author’s way of telling you he couldn’t handle your rejection.”

      “The postcard made him furious.” Her voice shook.

      Roman nodded. “I agree.” His gaze darted to the next lily entry. “Lily means, I’m dead.”

      His frown deepened. But it was when he reread the last line that his heart did a drop kick. “If a flower is offered reversed, its direct signification is likewise reversed so that the flower now means the opposite.”

      He raked a hand through his hair. The opposite of I am dead...

      His eyes sought the plastic bag and he opened it. Two dead lilies stared up at him. But the petals had been folded downward.

      If the flower is offered reversed, the flower now means...you’re dead.

      Roman absently tapped the paper against his cheek. This guy was definitely certifiable. But whether he was really dangerous, or just enjoyed threatening his victims, remained to be seen.

      To his shock, he was rocked by a savage, unprecedented desire to make certain the lovely woman sitting across from him wouldn’t suffer any more fear at the stranger’s hands.

      Already a plan was forming in his mind. Where the idea came from he had no clue, unless it had leaped straight from his gut. Some primeval instinct was warning him СКАЧАТЬ