“I don’t care about the money. He looked cold and hungry. He probably just wanted a hot meal.”
He stood up from the table like he was agitated and paced to the window again to look out into the night. “Maybe he was a jerk and took advantage of you.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think a jerk would’ve come back to push me out of the way.”
He didn’t speak for a long time and I thought he might not say anything else, but then he turned and came back over beside the couch. “I’m glad you have something of his. That seemed important to you.”
“I really just wanted to know his name.” I yawned. I was starting to crash from everything that happened.
“Sorry, I can’t help you,” he said so sincerely that this time I found myself wondering if he told the truth.
“I bought those flowers for him. Since I couldn’t take them to his grave, I brought them home.” I tried to force my eyes open wider, wanting to stay awake, wanting answers.
He walked over to the vase and looked at the small bunch of daisies, reaching up to finger the delicate white petals. Then he pulled one out, wiping away the water at the end of the stem on the leg of his jeans. He brought the flower over to me and lowered himself onto the edge of the coffee table, holding it out. “Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing. You’ve had a pretty rough day and since I kind of owe you, for feeding ya bad chicken and all, this one can be for you.”
I looked at the flower. It’s perfectly formed smooth petals were open and trusting. It revealed the center of itself so willingly that I found myself sighing.
“Why can’t people be as easy to read as a flower?”
I hadn’t realized I spoke the thought out loud until Dex answered, his voice a mere whisper.
“Because people are flawed.”
I smiled and brought the flower to my nose to take in its bright scent. “Maybe that’s why people like flowers so much. Because they aren’t.”
“Only girls like flowers,” he said with a smirk. He looked cute with his preppy glasses and messed up hair.
“Especially when a guy is the one giving them.” Was I flirting? I must be delirious from all the medicine.
He stood up. “I should let you rest.”
“Is something wrong?” Okay, so clearly I was lousy at flirting.
“No,” he turned back. “I should go.”
I yawned as he moved toward the door and I saw him glance again at the little card with the beach on it.
“The doctor at the morgue said the reason they couldn’t identify him was because his body disappeared. Can you imagine? Who would steal a body from the morgue?”
His shoulders tensed. “Are you serious? That’s sick.”
He made a face like it upset his stomach. There wasn’t a hint of guilt on his face. Maybe I’d been wrong after all. Maybe he really didn’t know anything. I guess it was kind of crazy to believe the guy who’d just given me a daisy was a body snatcher.
“Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything?” he asked after I said nothing else.
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”
He unlocked the door and opened it, glancing back once more. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”
“Maybe,” I echoed, knowing full well I would.
I lay there for long moments after he’d gone and replayed our conversation over in my mind. Dexter Allen Roth was quite the puzzle. I couldn’t tell yet where all the pieces fit, but once I had him all put together, I had a feeling he would make a very interesting picture.
With that thought, I went to bed.
I took the daisy with me.
Chapter Seventeen
