“There are a lot of reasons why Rosen might not be home yet, but I have a bad feeling in my gut that this isn't going to turn out good,” Ranger said.
“How much longer do you want to sit here?” '
“Let's give him until ten.”
“Okay,” Morelli said, “tell me again. You were doing what with Ranger?”
“We wanted to talk to Carl Rosen, but he never came home.” I told Morelli about the waitress at the Blue Bird and how she remembered about the flowers.
“Christ,” Morelli said. “That never came out in any of the investigation. I've read through the file. Carl Rosen was questioned, along with everyone else in that apartment building, but no one ever said anything about flowers.”
“I guess they didn't think it related.”
“Tomorrow morning I'll talk to Ollie. He was the principal on the case.”
Oh great. Blubber-?butt Ollie. The Bain of my existence. The guy who once tried to arrest me for impersonating a bounty hunter.
It was late. And I was tired. I'd done nothing for hours and it had sapped my energy. Spending time with Ranger was an odd experience. I was always aware of the sexual pull, magnified by the silence that surrounded him. The attraction had changed since we'd had the one night together. We knew the power of it now. We set boundaries after that night. His were different from mine. My boundaries were physical and Rangers were emotional. I still knew almost nothing about him. And I suspected it would always be that way.
I had one task left before going to bed. I needed to check my email. Not a pleasant experience anymore. I knew there'd be a message from the killer. I had a terrible feeling of dread that it would be about Carl Rosen.
I tapped my code into AOL and waited for my mail to appear. A chill slid along my spine when I saw the subject line tally ho.
Dear prey, the email began, so sorry you couldn't get to talk to Carl, but that might have ruined the hunt. Alas, it's necessary to eliminate participants. After all, this is a survival game, isn't it?
Morelli was reading over my shoulder. “Doesn't sound good for Carl.”
“This guy thinks he's playing a game.”
“Have you run across any paranoid schizophrenics lately? Any completely wacko nut cases?”
“My path is littered with them. Have you guys had any luck tracking the emails?”
“No. Hiding the origin of an email requires some sophistication, but it's possible. The Mercer County Prosecutors Office is working with us. We'll see what we can do with this new one. I'm going to confiscate your computer for a while.”
“Were you able to locate the flower source?”
“They didn't come from any of the local florists. This guy probably picked them up at a supermarket. We have notices up in all the supermarket lunchrooms for checkers to watch for red roses and white carnations going out. We've dusted your apartment for prints, but nothing worthwhile came up.”
“This is very creepy.”
“Yeah,” Morelli said. “Let's go to bed and I'll take your mind off your problems.”
I woke up the next morning thinking maybe I only had thirty percent of Morelli, but it was a damn good thirty percent.
My schedule for fighting crime began considerably later in the day than Morelli's, so by the time I wandered into the kitchen Morelli was already at work. I got coffee brewing and dropped a frozen waffle into the toaster. The morning paper was on the table. I did a fast scan, but saw nothing about a body found floating in the Delaware.
I took a mug of coffee and padded out to the living room, opened the door, and looked up and down the street for Tank. No Tank in sight. That didn't mean he wasn't there.
I called Ranger and told him about the latest email. “I don't suppose you've seen Carl Rosen this morning?” I asked.
“No. His car hasn't surfaced. And he didn't show up for work.”
“Is Tank out there? I didn't see him.”
“He saw you. He said you were frightening.”
“I haven't taken a shower yet. My hair might be a little unruly.”