“I will.”
Reluctant to leave Dorie alone, but understanding that this was the best way she could help, Meghan pressed a kiss to her grandmotherly temple and hurried toward the front door. She slowed her pace as she neared the entryway, thinking something looked odd. She stopped when she realized what was out of place. A large bouquet of yellow roses sat on the hall table. Long-stemmed and studded with statis and greenery. Meghan released a long, low whistle. Someone had spent a fortune.
On one very sick idea of a joke.
Meghan felt a corresponding tension quiver through her muscles, setting her entire body on edge. She looked over her shoulder to Dorie. “Where did these come from?”
“Oh, those came for you while you were out back. After that phone call, I forgot to tell you.” Dorie pressed her hand over her heart. “Imagine. A dozen roses. You must have an ardent admirer.”
Meghan frowned. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like this at all. “There are only eleven roses.”
“I didn’t notice.” The older woman shuffled into the foyer beside her. “Did the florist make a mistake?”
“I don’t think so.”
One anonymous rose she could write off as a little weird and donate it to the hospital with the rest of her flowers.
Eleven golden mates showing up on the same day to complete the gift was downright creepy.
“Did you see who delivered them?”
“The doorbell rang during the news.” She could hear the agitation in Dorie’s voice as she picked up on Meghan’s tension. “By the time I got to it, the bouquet was on the doorstep and a white van was backing out of the driveway. The sun was reflecting off the windshield and I didn’t have my glasses on.”
“Was there a name on the side of the van?”
Dorie shrugged an apology. “If I remember, there were some red letters or markings on the driver’s door.”
Meghan pulled a thorny stem aside to get a closer look at the blank envelope. “And you’re sure they’re for me? There’s no name.”
“Honey, my Jim’s been dead goin’ on ten years now. Who’d be sending an old girl like me flowers?”
Meghan traded worried looks with Dorie. “How did they know where to deliver them? Why didn’t they go to my apartment?”
Only John Murdock and the chief knew that this was her second home. And she doubted anyone at Family Services who knew she volunteered here would be sending flowers. She supposed someone could have tried to deliver them at the station house and been redirected here. But John was off duty, too. Who else knew to find her here? Had she been followed?
Dorie tapped her on the shoulder. “Don’t stand there gawkin’ at ’em. Open the card and see who they’re from. Maybe that’ll solve the mystery.”
An uneasy feeling settled around Meghan’s shoulders as she plucked the envelope from its plastic mount. That uneasy feeling knotted into a combination of fear and anger—a sense of violation deep in her gut—as she pulled out the card and read it.
“That’s odd.” Dorie’s confusion echoed her own. “It doesn’t say.”
Meghan crammed the note into the pocket of her shorts. The discomfiting words were already emblazoned in her memory.
You are truly Kansas City’s Bravest.
You know I love you.
Only one man had ever claimed to love her.
And she’d thrown his proposal back in his face and walked out of his life forever.
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