Chapter 5
My front door was unlocked, and after the day I’d had, my heart lodged in my throat. I’d texted Gilly to meet me at my house, so logically, I knew she was the culprit. After all, she lived next door and had keys to my house the same as I had to hers. Ezra had to debrief his team and finish up paperwork, and I hadn’t relished the idea of coming home to an empty house.
Out of an abundance of caution, I texted Gilly to see if she was indeed in the house. Better safe than sorry. She texted right back.
Waiting inside. Picked up dinner.
I choked out a laugh as relief washed over me. The sound was rather tinny and off, but I was kind of off at the moment. Raising my chin and throwing my shoulders back, I went inside. The sweet and bitter aroma of strong black coffee assuaged my unease. The sound of familiar voices—and not of the celebrity variety—drew me to the kitchen. There, at the center island, sat Gilly and Ari, both in sweats and oversized shirts. Ari’s hair was still damp from a shower or bath. An open pink box of donuts lay between them, its vibrant assortment almost untouched, while two grease-stained bags from the Taco Shake Shack added to the much-needed culinary delights.
When Ari’s brown eyes met mine, they brimmed with tears. She shot up from her seat and rushed toward me, her footsteps quick and desperate. Her arms clamped around me in an instant, holding on as if she might never let go. Her trembling breaths came in short, uneven gasps.
I wrapped my arms around my goddaughter, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay, honey,” I murmured, my voice as steady as possible despite the whirlwind of emotions racing through me. “We’re okay.” I glanced over at Gilly.
Her expression was a mix of worry and relief. “Thank God you’re okay,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on me. “There wasn’t a shooter,” I said, as much to reassure myself as her. “It was a prank.” I winced at the lie, but I didn’t want to alarm Ari with my own fear. “An awful, terrible prank.”
“Is that what the police said?” Gilly asked.
I shook my head as I let Ari go. “Someone put a couple of bullets into the popcorn kettle in the stand next to ours, and they blew up when they got hot.”
Ari’s expression was quizzical. “But what about the guy who got shot?” Her brow furrowed. “Bullets don’t have any momentum when they explode.”
“Explain it to me in small words,” Gilly told her daughter.
Ari, who loved talking science, perked up at her mom’s question. “Imagine a bullet inside a hot kettle. As the temperature increases, the gunpowder inside the bullet eventually ignites. Normally, when a bullet is fired from a gun, the ignition propels the bullet forward with a lot of force, pushing it out of the barrel at a very high speed.” She used hand gestures that illustrated her description. “The barrel is the catalyst that thrusts the bullet forward. However, if a bullet explodes from heat, like in the kettle, there’s no containment to give it direction, so the force detonates out in all directions instead of just one.” She shrugged and dropped her hands to her sides. “So, how was the person shot?”
“Smart girl and smart question.” I nodded at the taco bags. “Is that dinner?”
“Yep,” Gilly quipped as she grabbed some paper plates from my cupboard. “I got twelve fried tacos with extra hot sauce.”
My mouth watered like Pavlov’s dog. “Perfect.”
“Aunt Nora.” Ari gave me an annoyed stare. She rolled her hand at me. “The gunshot.”
The corner of my mouth quirked up in amusement. Ari wasn’t going to let it go without some kind of logical explanation. “It was metal shrapnel from the kettle. It broke off when the bullets exploded and hit Edgar in the shoulder. Someone who’d heard the bullets go off and saw Edgar bleeding assumed he’d been shot.” I took the plate of offered tacos from my friend. “The perfect dinner after a miserable day.” I gave Gilly a grateful look. “Thank you for being here.”
She gave me a tightlipped smile. “I’m the one who has some thanking to do,” she replied. “What you did today was so brave.” Her eyes pivoted to Ari then back to me. “You kept my daughter safe.”
“Thankfully, turns out there wasn’t much to keep her safe from.” I added hot sauce to a taco and took a bite. The heat and spice burned my lips as a brief hum of satisfaction rumbled in my throat.
Gilly came around the center island and grabbed me into a hug. I barely saved the taco I held from being trapped between us.
“You didn’t know it wasn’t real,” she said fiercely. “Your first thought was for my kid, and I can’t tell you how much I love you for it.”
I set the taco down and hugged her back. “I love you too. And...” I reached over and put my hand on Ari’s shoulder. “...I love my godchildren. Putting Ari’s safety ahead of mine was a no-brainer.” I felt the same way about Mason as well.
Abruptly, Gilly let me go and threw her hands in the air. “What idiot thinks exploding bullets in a crowded street is funny?”
I gave a non-committal grunt to avoid answering her question.
Gilly’s eyebrow shot up. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I scratched my cheek and shifted my gaze to Ari then back to my friend. “Now’s not the right time.”
Ari sucked her teeth. “I’m not a child anymore, Aunt Nora.”
“I know,” I told her. Ari knew about my scent-memory gift. She’d even used her computer skills to help with a case in the past. “I had a vision. The person or persons who did this seems to want me to know that they’re targeting me.”
“Was it a man or a woman?” Gilly asked.
“Both, maybe. I don’t know.” I gave a quick head shake. There were two distinct voices, but I only saw one person. “I think my visions are glitching. He or she...”
“Or they,” Ari muttered.
I inclined my head at her. “Or they.” I scratched my scalp to mitigate the sensory overload in my brain. “The voice...the first vision the person sounded like Christopher Walken.” I inclined my head at Ari. “He was a big actor when your mom and I were young.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know who Christopher Walken is, Aunt Nora. He’s that old guy that danced in Fatboy Slim’s “Weapon of Choice” music video.” Her eyes brightened. “And he plays the emperor in Dune. You know, the new one with Timothée Chalamet.”
“Good to know he’s relevant with the youth.” I smirked. “Any how, his voice is really distinctive, and I had a second vision where the voice sounded like Dolly Parton.”
Before I could say more, Ari jumped in. “Dolly is bussin’”
I’d been around the kids long enough to know that bussin’ meant really good. “Agreed. Dolly is fire,” I replied. “But in my vision, she was menacing, and she called me out by name.”
“Maybe the adrenaline threw your gift out of whack,” Gilly suggested.
I shook my head. “The first one happened before the fake shooting. The person wore all black, including a hoodie and a balaclava to cover their hair and face. Even the phone they held was black.”
“Phone?” Ari snapped her fingers. “Maybe they were using a voice changer.”
“A voice changer?” Gilly tucked her chin. “That’s very film noir.”
“It’s an easy app to download on the phone,” Ari said. “They have dozens of them, including one that will change your voice to that of a celebrity.”
I felt like a dummy. “That makes the most sense.”
Gilly brightened. “Is there a way to find out if someone has the app on their phone?”
I grimaced. “Not really. Not without a warrant.” I picked my taco back up. “And we need a suspect to get a warrant, along with more evidence than my scent-o-rama drama.
“It’s too bad we can’t record your visions,” Ari said, unwrapping a taco. “I have a friend who’s studying audio forensics. She could reverse engineer the voice changer to find the person’s real voice.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I bobbed my head as I finished my bite. “It’d be nice.”
Gilly sighed, running a hand through her hair. “That letter in the Gazette... it’s changed everything. People are scared, and some are angry. Whoever wrote it knew exactly what they were doing.”
I swallowed hard, the reality of my situation sinking in even deeper. “We need to find out who’s behind this,” I said, determination hardening my voice. “And what they plan to do next?”
The doorbell dinged, and the three of us froze in place momentarily.
“I’ll get it,” Ari volunteered.
I grabbed her arm before she could escape the kitchen. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
“Ezra?” Gilly queried.
“He wouldn’t ring my bell.”
Gilly snickered. “That’s not what I’ve heard.
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.” I cautioned Gilly and Ari to stay behind me as we walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. I cursed myself for not locking the door behind me, but I never locked my door when I was home unless I was sleeping. “It’s probably safe,” I said, unsure whether I was trying to convince them or myself. “I mean, bad guys don’t advertise their arrival, right?”
Three loud knocks stopped me in my tracks. Gilly, who was right on my butt, bumped into me, and I careened forward, staggering my steps to keep upright. Several illicit expletives fell from my lips as I righted.
“Sorry, sorry,” Gilly whispered harshly. The grimace on her face deepened her frown lines.
“This is ridiculous,” I hissed back before rushing to the door and locking it. “Who’s there?” I demanded of the person behind the door.
“Garden Cove Floral delivery,” a guy said.
I shot Gilly a WTF look. Her eyes widened as her brows went up with a quick Your guess is as good as mine look.
Ari was peeking through the curtain. “It’s Brady Newsome,” she said. “I went to school with him. Besides, his van has the Garden Cove Floral logo on the side, and he’s holding a bouquet of flowers. He’s legit.”
“Hey, Ari,” the delivery guy said as he leaned to look inside the window.
My goddaughter gave him a slight wave. “Hold on,” she said, then looked at me. “I think it’s safe to answer the door.”
I didn’t know Brady from Adam, but I acquiesced. “Okay.”
Gilly rubbed her hands together, her shoulders bunching with excitement. “I wonder who the flowers are from?”
I opened the door and saw the most beautiful bouquet of vibrant fuchsia and white starfighter lilies. This flower was divisive: You either loved the scent or hated it. I’d always thought the aromatic tropical sweetness with notes of honey was heavenly, like ambrosia for the gods. “Is there a card?” I asked suspiciously.
“Yes, ma’am,” Brady said. He plucked a small envelope from the center and handed it to me.
I opened it to find a card that said, Love, EZ.
Awww. My heart melted. After a lousy day, the flowers from my sweetheart made the awful seem not so bad.
“That’s so sweet,” Gilly said.
“When was the order made?” I asked Brady. “Was it today?”
He shook his head and tugged on his cap. “The order came in last week with today as the delivery date.”
“Oh my gosh, Nora. Did you forget an anniversary or something?”
Had I? Our four-year dating-aversary had passed a couple months earlier, but maybe today had another significance. I wracked my brain, but I couldn’t think of a thing.
“Oh,” Ari exclaimed. “Maybe he’s planning on proposing!”
I groaned. “Don’t even joke about that.” After the day I had, a proposal was the last thing I needed or wanted. I didn’t want to get married ever. I’d been there, done that, and got the t-shirt in the divorce. I liked our relationship the way it was. As far as I knew, Ezra felt the same. I hoped and prayed that wasn’t the reason for the flowers.
“These things were really stinking up the van.” His expression soured, and he gulped. “I mean, it was just they were a lot to drive around with.”
The flower was known for its strong perfume, but I thought the kid exaggerated his complaint until he jerked his thumb back to the van. “There are seven more bouquets in the back seat.”
“This is serious,” Gilly said with less mirth. “You don’t buy eight bouquets of flowers ahead of time unless you have something big in mind.”
I gave her a quick, light backhand. “Say less.” The pit in my stomach grew into a deep well, and I wanted to crawl inside and hide. “I don’t suppose you could take them back?” I asked Brady.
“Sorry, no.” He adjusted the brim of his hat again, his blue eyes sparkling. “I think you should give the guy a chance. He must really love you.”
I sighed. “Fine. You can bring them in.” I lifted the bouquet to my nose and inhaled the honied fragrance. The sweet notes were pleasantly pungent until...
Someone wearing all white, including a white hoodie, gloves, and mask, stands in a white, sterile-looking room surrounded by tables and bunches of pink and white Starfighter lilies. The flowers are tucked in white buckets surrounding the figure. The sweet, pungent aroma saturates the air. Stem and leaf clippings litter the table tops and floor.
He or she walks over and sits on a stool. They are humming a song that sounds vaguely familiar. What is it from? One of the shows I grew up with as a child, I think. They have something in their hand, a can maybe, but without a label. They start wrapping something onto the exterior with duct tape.
“EZ Holden, that’s his name,” the melodic smooth voice sings softly. “EZ Holden will play my game.”
I recognize the voice and the song. The person sounded like Morgan Freeman, and the tune was EZ Reader.
In white-gloved hands, the sinister figure holds out a metal canister with a timer attached. “Time’s not your friend, Nora. It’s ticking away. Will you find the bomb before it finds its prey? For someone with your gifts, it should be easy.” The bomb is set onto the ground, and the Morgan Freeman chuckles. “I hope you can speed read, Hero. Tick tock. You have three hours before the clock runs out.”
I dropped the bouquet, and the hard glass vase they were in bounced, sloshing water over my feet and my carpet.
“What did you see?” Gilly immediately asked. “You’re white as a sheet.”
“A bomb,” I whispered hoarsely. “We have to find the bomb before it’s too late.”