Ray sat back a little. “Who would know the combination to your locker?” he said before she could tell him about the flowers delivered this morning.
It took her a second to get back on the same page as Ray. “I don’t know. The lock wasn’t off or anything. It looked normal. Totally normal.”
“That’s why you didn’t want to open the locker in front of Darcy. Because of the roses.”
Smart man. “Didn’t want to explain them to her. The less people know, the better.”
“Good call.” He sighed. “Well, okay. If we think this out, it stands to reason that if someone could open your locker to put flowers in, then he or she could open it again to take the flowers out. No big mystery there.”
That made sense. Still shook her up, though.
“What about today?”
“What about it?” Her mind had gone nearly blank, and all she wanted was to take a nap, which was weird being it was only a little after eight. This questioning from Ray made her so sleepy. She leaned her elbow on the back of the seat and laid her head over on it.
“Today is a new day. Did the pattern continue? Did you get roses?”
Oh, she’d gotten them all right. “Before I left the house to come to school, the doorbell rang. It was a delivery man from one of those flower shops. He handed me three roses, wrapped like all the others with a black ribbon. And a note.” She yawned. One would think she could stay awake telling this story. She really needed to get to bed earlier tonight, that is, if the worry didn’t keep her awake.
“What did the note say?” Ray prodded.
Sloan took it out of her bag and handed it to him. His lips moved as he read it to himself. “ICU”
“Yeah. Among other things. See why I don’t know what to do?”
“It says not to call the cops.”
“That it does.”
“Are you?”
“Are you crazy?” She found enough energy to snatch the paper away from him. “He’s threatened my mother. I can’t call the police. He’ll hurt her.”
“Do you know that for sure?”
“I can pretty much guarantee it. He can get into my locker and into my room. I’d say he can get my mother.” It freaked her out thinking about it.
“She needs to know. You can’t keep this from her.”
“Yes, I can,” Sloan said with every bit of defiance she could muster. She had to make Ray understand. “Whoever it is will hurt her, Ray. I can’t live with that.”
Ray’s jaw tightened. He balled up his fist and hit it on the seat. “And do you think she can live with something happening to you? Do you think any of us could?”
Sloan stared at him. She hadn’t thought about it before, to be honest. It was more protecting her family and friends than herself. And, really, she’d never seen Ray so mad. Like ever. A little vein on his temple stood out in all its blue glory. He really did care for her. How in the world was she supposed to feel about that? “I know she cares. And I know…” This was so hard. Why did it have to be hard? “I know you care for me. And Aaron and Mackenzie,” she threw in for good measure. “But this is on me. I have to figure this out or he or she or… it will hurt someone I care about. Do you understand that? Don’t you get it?”
“I get it. But I think you’re being ridiculous and reckless. Your mom needs to know. Maybe not the cops. Maybe not Detective Morgan, yet. But definitely your mother. You can’t keep this from her.”
Oh yes, she could. “Just give me until tomorrow to figure it out, okay? To handle it on my own. If I can’t, I promise I’ll tell her.”
“Her who. Which her?”
Ugh! “My mother, okay? I’ll tell my mother if things get creepier. Would that make you happy?” Her words had more bite than she’d expected, but Ray frustrated her to death. Why couldn’t he just let her deal with this on her own? It would kill her if someone got hurt because of her, and Ray needed to understand that.
“I’d hate to see it creepier than it already is.” He looked away and barely whispered.
Sloan took a deep, cleansing I’m-not-going-to-be-mad-at-him-anymore-because-he’s-just-worried-about-me-and-I’m-being-sort-of-too-hard-on-him breath. “Look. Ray, I’m sorry about snapping at you. I’m just stressed. It’s not been the easiest year.”
“That’s an understatement.” A small, sad grin pulled his lips.
“Right? I don’t know what to do. I just know I can’t tell anyone yet. I need time to figure things out. Maybe even decide who is sending the flowers.”
“And you think you can do that on your own? You’re not exactly a detective, Sherlock.”
She glared at him, semi-playfully. “I know that, Watson. But I can do some things. Talk to some people.”
“Have any ideas? Any clues?”
She shook her head. Clues were the hard part. Being all brave and strong and smart and detective-ish in theory was great. Actually doing it scared the worms out of her. “Just the letters. Something about a fall that will happen the day of the prom, but I don’t know what kind.”