Two days later, I drove home and settled into my apartment before checking my messages. Wayne had called and wanted me to call him back. Smith had called too and tersely told me to check my email, something about Floyd. Neither were the stunningly good news I’d hoped for, and both could wait until morning when I was officially allowed back in the office.

  The speaker on my wall buzzed. I went over and pushed the button. “Who is it?”

  “Delivery for a Ms. Pine?”

  “I’ll be right down.” Before I left my apartment, I peeked through the window. A truck with Spectacular Flowers on the side sat idling in the driveway. I hurried down and opened the front door.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The delivery man held out a clipboard. I signed for the flowers while he retrieved them from the truck. Twenty-four orange roses that were so beautiful they could rival the sunset and one sunflower marched toward me. He handed them over, and I couldn’t resist taking a good sniff. Unlike most store-bought roses, they smelled divine.

  I stepped back inside as the truck drove away. The door closed and locked behind me, and I tugged the folded card out of the arrangement to find sharp letters.

  I’m sorry. I know you could never love another as you love me. Please forgive my angry words.

  A small sunflower sticker sat in the signature line.

  P.S. I’ll know you forgive me if I see the flowers sitting in your window.

  Of my 99 problems, my stalker had moved up to number one. Or maybe number two. I still had to figure out what was going on with Floyd. My necromancy was 98.