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The door opened and Rocco walked just inside, followed by Heath, head of security.
“Sorry to interrupt, it’s important,” Rocco said.
“I’ll take off. Let you know as soon as I decide,” Javi said, standing and moving to the door.
“Thanks, Javi. Later.”
Rocco waited at the door and closed it behind Javi while Heath walked to the desk.
He then put his phone on it and told Hale. “It’s Chuck. Elsa’s producer.”
Hale didn’t like this one fucking bit.
He stared at Heath’s unhappy face while he greeted, “Hey, Chuck.”
“Okay, well, shit,” Chuck replied. “But I guess I’m not surprised.”
“About what?”
“About your team taking this as seriously as Zoey and I have been taking it.”
Hale liked that even less. “Taking what?”
“The death threats and creepy gifts Elsa has been getting.”
Hale’s stomach dropped and it felt like his muscles atrophied, so he had to force his mouth to move.
“What are you talking about?”
Chuck now sounded cagey. “So she didn’t call you?”
“No,” Hale bit off. “So you tell me.”
“If she didn’t tell you—”
“You tweaked about this?” Hale demanded.
“Fuck yeah.”
“Sotell me,” Hale ordered.
“Elsa’s been getting a lot of messages from the same email address. When pictures started coming out of you guys in Cali, of her going into your place, they got nasty. And the gifts started. Zoey and I have been keeping the gifts from Elsa because she keeps blowing this shit off. But also because they’re all kinds of fucked up. We asked and building security have been accepting delivery for us. They call Zo or me when something comes in. We go down, check it out, take pictures, and Zoey’s reported it to the police. They come and collect the stuff, or take their own pictures, and a statement from Zoey and me.”
“What are these gifts?”
“Couple bouquets of dead flowers. An elaborate picture frame with a picture of you two in it, but Elsa’s image has been cut up. Still there, but cut up, like hand shredded with scissors. And the reason I told Hudson, who’s on Elsa today, and he told me to call it in to your people is, she got a dead cat today.”
Hale’s blood ran cold.
A dead cat.
Last weekend, they went to a shelter. Elsa loved animals, always wanted a pet. Her mom wasn’t an animal person, so she’d never had one, and Elsa’s life wasn’t conducive to her taking care of one after she left home.
Until now.
She’d picked two, a ginger kitten and the white, deaf male cat with one blue eye and one gold who had adopted the lone kitten when it was brought to the shelter. The staff said they couldn’t separate them now, so Elsa said she’d take both.
So her.
