but the nights were chilly.
“I’m fine.” She sighed. “You don’t think I’m going to scare him off, do you? I mean, he’s just expecting you.”
“I don’t think so.” I glanced at Marcy, who was only five-two and about as threatening as a Chihuahua. I had to admit that she was fierce at times, especially when her friends needed her to be. Tonight was one of those times and I just hoped nothing bad happened. If she got hurt, I’d never forgive myself for bringing her into this.
She chewed on her lower lip. “What if he saw Deputy Billings’ car at your place earlier?”
“I doubt he’d agree to meet with me if he thought I was going to try and have him arrested.”
“You don’t know that for sure. The guy is so crazy, he might be capable of anything.”
“True.”
Sighing, she looked over at the parking lot where two squads sat. “I just hope they don’t scare him off. I want this guy caught.”
“They’ll chase him down if he flees. I gave him a description of the vehicle.”
“Yeah. I heard. I just wonder who in the hell this guy really is and whether he’s pulled this on anyone else.”
“I know, right? This is just crazy. Maybe he already has a record and that’s why he didn’t use his real name?”
Her eyes grew big. “Good God. Maybe he’s even a rapist? You did send an email to Casual Meets about him, right?”
“Yeah.”
Right after texting with Brian, I sent them a message telling them everything that had transpired. Considering that his account was now shut down, it was always possible that they’d had other complaints about the guy.
Marcy craned her neck forward and nodded toward the parking lot. “Hey, here comes a car.” She squinted. “Didn’t you say he drove a silver BMW?”
“Yeah.” A blue Encore had pulled into the parking lot. “That’s definitely not him.”
We watched as the driver parked and then got out of the car. It was a young man, maybe a teenager. He jogged over to where we were sitting.
“Are either of you Sophia Jordan?” he asked.
I raised my hand slightly. “I am.”
“I’m supposed to give this to you.” He handed me a greeting card in a white envelope.
“Who gave this to you?” Marcy asked.
“Some guy. He paid me fifty bucks to deliver it to you. See ya.” He started jogging away.
“Wait, don’t leave!” Marcy hollered.
The kid stopped and headed back over. He looked frustrated and antsy to leave. “Why? I was just supposed to give you the envelope and leave. I have to be to work in thirty minutes.”
I tore open the envelope and pulled out the card while they talked. On the cover was an illustrated couple, dancing under the moonlight. Inside the card was a handwritten note. It read: Our song has just begun. There wasn’t a signature, but it was obvious as to whom it was from. I immediately dropped the card onto the picnic table, a wave of doom washing over me.
Our song has just begun.
The psycho wasn’t through with me…
“What did it say?” Marcy asked.
I told her.
She rolled her eyes and looked at the kid. “How did this guy get in touch with you?”
“He approached me about ten minutes ago, at Floyd’s Gas Station. I was filling up my tank and he was on the other side, filling up his. He asked me to deliver this card for cash. At first I told him ‘no’, but then changed my mind when he mentioned the money.”
“It’s weird he handed you fifty dollars and trusted you’d deliver it. Not that you would scam him. But, why trust a total stranger?” Marcy asked, frowning.
“He threatened to have me arrested if I didn’t. Said he knew the sheriff and he’d tell him I stole the money,” the kid replied.
She snorted.
I let out a shaky breath. “What else did he say?”
“Nothing. That was it. He handed me a fifty-dollar bill. The card. Then he took off.”
“Was he driving a silver BMW?” I asked.
The kid nodded
Marcy looked at me. “He must have been spying on the house when the cop showed up.”
I nodded.
Deputy Billings approached us, frightening the teenager.
The kid raised his hands in the air. “Am I in trouble? All I did was deliver a card for someone. I didn’t commit any crime…”
I sighed. “Don’t worry. You’re not in any trouble.”
“So, who do we have here?” the deputy asked, staring at the teen. “What’s your name son?”
“Jordan Bloomquist.”
Deputy Billings looked at me. “What’s going on?”
I told him what had