Saint Sloan (Saint Sloan #1)(15)

“No. Should I?”

He checked the clipboard a third time. “Maybe that note will tell you what you need to know. Good day, ma’am.” He tipped his head before walking away.

Sloan shut the door and locked it behind her. After laying the flowers down on the table, she opened the card. She carefully pulled out a folded note.

3 days until the Fall, Sloan. Your fall. Don’t call the police. Don’t get them involved. Your mommy won’t like it if you do. This is between you and me. Do you know who I am yet? Because ICU.

XOXO

Sloan’s legs gave way and she fell against the door.

ICU.

What did that mean?

ICU.

I see you.

I see you?

She turned as quickly as she could and looked out the window next to the door. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that screamed, “Scary person staring at you.”

Her first instinct was to call the police. She needed to tell Detective Morgan everything so she could find whoever it was harassing her. But the note let her know that would be a big mistake.

Sloan was afraid for her mom. Scared whoever was harassing her would go after her. It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility. Whoever it was could obviously get in her house. She had no doubt the flowers hadn’t appeared on her nightstand by accident. He’d put them there. He or she…

Truthfully, she had no idea who it was. She had theories. Boyd being the first on her list, but as Detective Morgan had so helpfully told her, Boyd couldn’t walk. Didn’t mean he couldn’t send flowers, though.

Did mean he couldn’t climb the steps to her room.

With her head pounding, Sloan took the flowers and the note up to her room and threw the flowers in the newly emptied trashcan. The note, she folded and stuck in her pocket. She pulled the plastic liner out of the small container and decided to throw it away on the way home from school. She opened her vanity drawer and pulled out the bottle of over–the-counter headache pills. Name brand. Nothing prescription. Just good old-fashioned headache medicine.

She opened the pill bottle and poured some in her hand. She threw two of the white pills in her mouth and followed them with a swig of water. They were just going to have to do. No more oh-so-wonderful pills from Darcy. Yeah, they would be nice, but Aaron was right — as much as she didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t need to get hooked on higher strength pain pills. Might as well nip it in the bud right now.

By the time she made it to the bottom of the steps with the trash bag in her hand, she was starting to feel better. Her headache no longer pounded behind her eyes, and she felt strangely lighter. It was nice. Score one for over-the-counter medicine.

After making sure the front door was secure, she went out the back and threw the bag of flowers in the trunk. She slid in the driver’s side and wiped her eyes. A thin haze fogged them, and she wiped them again. Tonight she needed to go to sleep earlier.

Sloan pulled the note the delivery man had given her out of her pocket and put it in her backpack for safe keeping. Maybe she’d show Ray, maybe not. If she couldn’t get the police involved, would it be a good idea to get Ray involved? And did she really not want to tell the police?

She had a lot of thinking to do, a lot of praying to do. She wished more than anything she knew the right thing to do. If she told the cops and whoever it was went after her mom, she’d never forgive herself. If she didn’t tell and whoever it was came after her, well, she might not live through it.

She pushed the button to start the Charger and backed out of the drive. Her head felt a little funny. Springtime in Tennessee. Lots of fun for the allergies.

She pulled into the parking lot with plenty of time to spare. After she pulled into her spot, she laid her head on the steering wheel and just sat there. What was she going to do?

Well, first of all, she was going to pull herself together. There was no need to sit there and snivel. She had to deal with this thing head-on. Head-on and alone or head-on with her friends was the question.

She grabbed her backpack and got out of the car. Walking past groups of students who didn’t pay her any attention actually made her feel better. A few months ago, she couldn’t walk anywhere without stares and snickers, both in front and behind her back. Now, most people just ignored her and her big scar. She appreciated it.

Finally, she made it to her locker and hesitated. There’d been four flowers in there last night. And a note from Mr. ICU, for lack of a better name. They’d still be there. She’d have to deal with it. If she’d have been smart, she would have just thrown them away like she planned on doing the ones sent to her house. Okay, she’d hang around a few minutes after school and wait for most people to clear out. Then she’d take the roses and put them in the car with the other ones. She could throw them all away at the same time. Hopefully, no one would see them in her locker. People would ask, and she didn’t want to answer. Didn’t even know exactly how to answer.

“Hey, Sloan.” Darcy bounded up next to her. Good gracious, this wasn’t going to become an everyday habit, was it?

“Hey.” She held her hand on the lock, refusing to open it with Darcy standing there. She’d forgiven her, but she still didn’t trust her.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” Why?

“Do you need any more pills? I have some.”

“No!” She put her hand on Darcy’s to stop her from getting the bottle out of her bag. “No,” she said more softly. “No, thank you. I don’t need them. But thanks.”