Undercover Husband. Rebecca Winters

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 this was no ordinary case, nor she no ordinary woman. Diana had sensed the same thing when she’d begged him to take it, rather than give it to one of the other P.I.s.

      Though he doubted that this psycho would actually do more than harass her, Roman could never rule out the possibility that Baird meant what he said. If so, Brittany Langford needed help, and she needed it now.

      “What are you thinking?” she asked in an anxious voice.

      Roman closed the file, schooling his features to show no emotion. “I need to do a little preliminary work first. Are you going home to stay?”

      “Yes—”

      “Then expect me around seven and we’ll talk.”

      “All right.” She got to her feet. “I—I’ll see you then.”

      He watched her progress from the room, unconsciously admiring the singing lines of her body while he put everything back in the drawer. With a swift motion he closed it, a little too soundly because it drew Parker’s attention.

      “Find what you were looking for?”

      “Heaven forbid, I did,” Roman ground out.

      “It’s a mail harassment case, nothing more. One of these days the guy will give up.”

      That’s why you never made chief, Parker.

      The man despised private investigators, especially Roman, the outsider from New York City. But he didn’t have the courage to call him something uncomplimentary to his face.

      “Just doing my job according to Hoyle.”

      Roman knew his response would pass over the top of Parker’s head. Maybe in six months he’d figure it out. By that time, Brittany Langford could be in serious trouble if her tormentor had the potential for menace.

      Once he returned to his office, Roman would fax Pat Flaherty in New York. Pat and he had been partners way back when life had been vastly different, when Roman was still full of noble ideas about changing the world...

      The cocky Irishman was still on the force and had active contacts who could put out feelers on Glen Baird in a matter of minutes. Roman had one concern at the moment. To find out if Baird still resided in Wisconsin.

      CHAPTER TWO

      WHEN the doorbell rang a little after seven, Brit knew it was Lieutenant Lufka. For some unaccountable reason, her heart began to hammer. She’d been counting the minutes until he arrived, wondering what conclusions he’d come to about her case.

      Oddly enough she’d been loathe to leave the police station. To leave him. He engendered such a strong feeling of safety, she found that she didn’t want to be out of his sight.

      After one brief meeting it was ridiculous to feel that way, but she couldn’t help it. The situation with Glen Baird had been going on almost a month. Her nerves were shot. It was heaven to be able to pour out her fears to someone like the Lieutenant who protected people for a living.

      She hurried across the living room and opened the door to her condo. He nodded with a hint of a smile, making her feel a little breathless.

      “Come in.” She stepped aside as he entered, then shut the door behind him. He brought the faint nip of the Fall night air with him. It mingled with the scent of the soap he used, bringing her to a strong physical awareness of him.

      Startled by this reaction, she knew she sounded too brusque when she asked him if he’d like a drink or coffee.

      “Maybe later,” he murmured, taking the upholstered chair opposite the velvet couch after she sat down.