The Last Bloom

POISON PETALS

Grisly and disturbing serial killer novels are bestselling author's CJ Wilder's stock in trade. Her alter ego, Calliope Laurent lives in a small quiet town with her pair of beloved dogs. She guards her privacy as fiercely as her pets guard her idyllic life.

When Calli starts receiving bouquets of roses along with cards containing ominous quotes, it's no coincidence women are being murdered in ways Calli is all too familiar with.

Deputy Sheriff Brady Harrison is taken with Calli from the moment he meets her. Assigned to her case, he's determined to find the killer, and as a man falling in love, protecting Calli has become his obsession.

As gruesome discoveries are made, it's clear the killer is bringing Calli's books to life, and since she knows all too well how her stories end, she's afraid to learn what will happen when the last bloom falls.

THE LAST BLOOM

Jennifer Peer

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

THE LAST BLOOM

Copyright © 2021 Jennifer Peer

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN: 978-1-953810-72-4

E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

For Shawn, an grá i mo shaol

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This novel would not have been possible without the support of my family. Their endless patience has been legendary. You all know that this is just the beginning, right? Take a deep breath and remember you love me unconditionally.

Next, a big thank you to my beta readers who certainly know how to give a boost or a constructive comment when needed. From my first cringeworthy moments to my last, you have all been wonderful.

Last, to everyone at Boroughs Publishing Group for taking a chance on me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

About the Author

THE LAST BLOOM

Prologue

He stood in the produce section picking the best russet potatoes to pair with the thick New York strip steaks before heading over to the hand-trimmed green beans. Picturing the jet-black hair cascading down her back, he quickened his pace, anxious to get cooking. Thinking of her soft lips, he grabbed a loaf of fresh Tuscan bread, feeling the stirring below.

He strolled further into the bakery to obtain the lemon squares she enjoyed: acidic to cut through the heaviness of the meal. Humming a tune, he shot a smile at a mother having difficulty juggling the cake she held while hip rocking her toddler. He rushed to help her get the confection into her cart, shrugging off her thanks with an understanding tilt of his head before moving on.

All of the hard work he’d done to get to this point caused his chest to swell with pride. He couldn’t believe it was finally time. She’d be pleased with the amount of effort he’d put into every single detail of the next few weeks. Ensuring that not even the smallest item was missed had required reading and re-reading what she’d said, but it would all be worth it.

He wished he could see the look in those big blue eyes when she received the first of her gifts. She’d be surprised, of course, and then, eventually, he’d finally win her over. It was such a significant date, surely she’d remember it.

And how could she fail to be pleased with him when he was about to bring her creations to life?

He joked with the cashier before strolling out to load his SUV. Everything was ready. He went through his mental checklist one more time, knowing he hadn’t forgotten a thing. It would all be so romantic.

A glance at the clock as he headed home revealed he was ahead of schedule. Grinning, he shook his head—silly to ever doubt.

Excitement caused his mind to drift. Visualizing her full breasts and curvy hips, the familiar hardness filled his lap. As he turned off the main road and headed to his destination, he touched himself lightly, picturing her in black lace, lips slightly parted and wet as she whispered his name. His hand moved firmer. Craving the release, he let the sensation build before stopping himself at the edge with a growl.

Later, he assured himself. For now, it was all about maintaining control. He’d get the food part of the evening out of the way, then let the woman coming over know it was nothing personal before getting her ready for the debut.

Overcome with anticipation, he was practically giddy.

Chapter 1

Dusk hit quickly as I paced, my mind playing its usual mix-tape of the many ways to be killed. Cautiously, I pushed the curtain aside slightly to peer into the haze of almost darkness. Was someone out there waiting for me in the inky blackness? Letting the curtain fall back, I wondered how much longer before help arrived. My two shepherds tracked my every movement, sensing my fear. I joined them on the floor to reassure all of us it wouldn’t be much longer.

The familiar ting of FaceTime sounded in the room, and I heaved a sigh of relief, jumped to my feet, and rushed to my computer to see my best friend appear on the screen. Deep brown eyes framed by thick lashes peered at me as his pouty lips turned up at one corner.

I’m freaking out here, I babbled. I don’t understand any of this. I glanced toward the door, licking my lips as fear-laced anxiety crept into my chest. I closed my eyes against it for the umpteenth time and breathed out shakily. Why would someone do this to me. Did I mention I’m totally freaking out?

Calli, relax. You’re being such a drama queen. A flash of indignation hit me. Huh. Lu had no idea what I was looking at since he was in the city five hours away. I’ll show him a drama queen.

I turned the camera and did a panoramic, waiting for his reaction. I nodded when his eyes widened.

Holy shit. That’s a lot of roses.

Uh-huh. I feel like I’m choking on them. There are so many colors. I had to get away from them and carried my bestie with me like a lifeline, moving quietly to the other side of the room to be closer to the door. I have no idea how many are outside. At least they’ve stopped coming, but I’m not going out there.

I peeked out the corner of the window, noting some purple blooms peeking out of the box closest to my vantage point of the garden bench. I was unable to see more without opening the door.

The cards are so… I whispered and began to pace in the entryway, struggling to find the word, creepy, I guess. I shivered thinking of the last few I’d read. I’m trying to hold it together. Never thought I’d want to report someone for sending too many flowers. I mean, how ridiculous does that sound? I pushed my hair away from my face and tried to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

I’m sorry I called you a drama queen. Lucien frowned with obvious concern. "You called the police, right? I’d feel a lot better if they at least came to look for themselves, especially since you don’t have neighbors close by. They can tell you if there’s anything to worry about. Even living way under the radar, someone could find you if they were dedicated enough.

Let’s face it, you write with a dark slant, which attracts some unusual characters. Maybe you should come here for a bit until this is resolved. He sounded hopeful. We can have a spa day or two, drink by the fire, take in a few shows? At least here I can keep you and the pups under lock and key in my building where we know you’ll be safe. This is different. I knew he was referring to the self-proclaimed vampire I’d dealt with a few years ago and stifled a groan. The last one didn’t know how to get to you.

I can’t go to you, Lu. I’m not letting anyone drive me out of my home. Besides, you’re coming up next weekend anyway for Dad’s retirement gala. It'll be fine. I almost regretted calling him. Chewing my lip, my hand clenched on the laptop, I worried he’d force the issue.

Maybe I was making a big fuss over nothing. I called the police before I tried you. I’m not helpless. I needed a friendly voice while I waited. That’s one downside to being so rural, it takes forever for anyone to get here. I gave him my best smile and pushed down the urge to scream in frustration over not having neighbors. Canandaigua was too far away for any kind of immediate police response.

I shot another look at what usually was a gesture to appreciate, instead of fear. I shivered. Crouching, I picked up one of the cards I’d dropped earlier, scanning the computer-generated message again. I’m going to read you one of these. ‘The rose garden holds the first of many gifts to come for my one true love.’ If this is the first gift, is he going to send me more things in excessive quantities? I tried to make light of the situation. Maybe he’ll send me wine, or chocolate.

If only that were the case. Do they each have a card?

I sighed. They do.

Okay. Are they all like that?

Um no, they say all sorts of things. Some have references to the flowers they’re with like this one. ‘Red for the fire in my blood.’ Or ‘White for the purity we all once had.’ I paused before reading, ‘Blue for the color of the dead.’ and heard his gasp. Yeah, that was my reaction too. I ran my fingers through my hair and resumed my anxious pacing. I creeped myself out reading the cards. That’s when I called the police, and then you.

I shivered a little, feeling chilled. The cards get stranger. ‘Statues of the finest marble guard the cold, lifeless form.’ I relayed from memory. Lu gasped. Yeah, exactly. I decided I didn’t want to touch them. I shivered. It sounded like something I’d written once. Maybe that's where my mind goes because I'm always killing people. I chuckled half-heartedly while glancing at the cards strewn across the floor where they’d fallen from my hand.

Stringing the messages together had started out kind of romantic but then... I shook it off, peeking through the curtains into the tree-covered backdrop leading up the incline of the Bristol Hills.

I imagined all the places to hide, wishing I felt less like a victim in a B movie making bad choices. Dropping the fabric and backing away, I turned, practically tripping over my shepherds in my haste to get back to the front. Sorry, guys. Lucien cleared his throat, and I met his narrowed eyes, laughing it off. They’re so darn stealthy sometimes I forget they’re here.

This whole thing is…abnormal. Lucien’s voice had a protective edge tinged with pissed off. I knew his concern came from our long association rather than our work relationship. We’d known each other since middle school. I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Yes, I sighed before attempting to lighten the mood. You know, if they treat me like the drama queen you thought I was at the start of this call, I’m going to give them your name. I hate that.

I know, honey. That’s why you live in the middle of small-town nowhere when you could be here soaking up the endless parties with me. Maybe you’d find some big, brawny, take no prisoners type to live out there with you. I bet we wouldn't even be having this conversation if you were in that situation. Huh. Who needed a mother when your best friend told you these things?

I’m only twenty-eight. It’s not like I’m a spinster, and I have Ripley and Hicks. You know they’d rip someone apart to protect me. I glanced at my shepherds who perked up at the mention of their names.

Sure, they’re well trained, but still. I think we’ll both feel better when the police get there. I’m staying on the phone until they do.

Thanks, Lu. I paced, stopping only to glance through the gap in the curtains again. Damn. Where were they? I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched even though I was probably imagining it.

Your dad would be there already, followed closely by a SWAT team.

He was right. Well, let’s hope he doesn’t hear about it from any of his law enforcement buddies. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment thinking about his overreaction. God only knew what he would insist upon.

Hicks let out a woof to alert me and I exhaled in relief. Lu, they’re here. I’ll let you know what’s going on when I do. Love you. I blew him a kiss and disconnected. Then I took a deep breath and went to open the door, my dogs at my heels.

***

Ms. Laurent, is this the first time you’ve received anything from this…um, admirer? Officer Robichon of the Canandaigua Police Department was an older man who seemed polite as he surveyed the room again. He could’ve stepped out of one of my novels as the grizzled, placid policeman. He’d stifled his initial surprise at my unwanted florist shop, but his eyes gave him away. I explained I’d no idea who the sender was and how his or her over-the-top gifting, coupled with the tone of the cards, made me uneasy. Something in my voice caught his attention.

Can you show me the cards?

I haven’t read them all. He looked at me quizzically. I didn’t want to touch them after I read this one. I handed him the statue card, which he read, glancing back at me and then down to the card again. At first, they were innocent enough, like nice, almost romantic. Then, not so much. I pursed my lips at the taste in my mouth, handing him the remaining cards I’d scooped up from the floor. I wanted them out of my house.

He flipped through them, pausing at one before putting it with another. You said that these started coming this morning? I nodded. What time?

Around ten. I stopped answering the door and contacted you when I couldn’t stand it anymore. I rubbed my eyes, making a difficult decision. Look, I’m going to put everything on the table, but it has to remain confidential. Robichon nodded. I’m not unfamiliar with the signs of an unhealthy interest. I hesitate to use the word ‘stalker,’ but that’s where my mind takes me. I’m an author and I write some pretty dark things, which you may be familiar with. The point is this whole situation sounds like the beginning of one of my novels, and I don’t like it. I swallowed. I’m a really private person. Only a few people know CJ Wilder is me. His eyes widened in recognition. Whoever this is, well... I hesitated, they shouldn’t have been able to find me.

You’re CJ Wilder? I met his gaze and nodded. Who else knows this? He glanced up, pen poised to take notes.

Lucien Falcone. He’s been my best friend since junior high at Canandaigua when he sang in my ear during English class. He went to New York City and I followed him— I glanced at the officer, realizing I was rambling and tried to stop the crazy train, clamping my mouth shut. Lucien is also my boss. I cleared my throat nervously before glancing at my tightly clenched hands, hoping he could see I was more than rattled.

He smiled and stared at me for a moment waiting. Noted. Who else?

My immediate family members, publishing team, attorney, a few writer friends, and of course, my marketing director Carline Roberts. Most of my fan mail is handled by the publishing house first and then is sent to her. Only specific items are delivered to me after she’s filtered them to avoid anyone having my P O Box or knowing my real name. That’s why this bothers me so much. How did they know my address? Do you want me to reach out to Carline and see if anything unusual has come in recently?

He was thoughtful while making a few notes. Let me connect with her directly. He rubbed his jawline. There’s another, much simpler scenario for all of this. A local saw you out and about, took an unhealthy interest and followed you. Your family is active in the community, and the whole town knows you live up here with your shepherds. It may have nothing to do with your job at all. Especially since we all thought you worked as an editor from what your mom said. He flushed. My wife went to school with Claire, he said by way of explaining me being the topic of discussion between them. I looked at him curiously and he ran his hand along the back of his neck. They were trying to play matchmaker. Our son is a few years older than you. Sounded like my mom. Let me get the rest of the cards.

I watched as he set about his task. Ripley next to me, observing him intently while Hicks sat watchfully by the front door. I noted the crease in Robichon’s forehead grew as he read the messages. His eyes were tight when they met mine. I’m going to bring in the rest from outside. He kept his expression neutral, but I noticed he placed the missives in his binder and closed it before stepping out. I swallowed the lump in my throat at being alone again and kept my eyes averted from the binder as I imagined the cards bursting into flames.

Robichon shook his head as he walked back in. Four more out there so a dozen in total. I was dismayed, eyes burning, and blinked back tears.

Can you take them with you? I looked at the bouquets and knowing they would’ve made me happy before today. Every time I look at them, I feel like someone’s watching me. I shivered and pulled my gaze away to meet his kind eyes.

Of course. I can put them in the back of my SUV and drop them at the hospital where my wife works. Let me load them up and while I’m doing that, you make a list of places you visit regularly. It will give me a place to start. I’ll ask around, see if anyone noticed unusual interest in you. I swallowed relieved, and nodded, grateful he was giving me something to do. The florists are all local to this county, but the orders were made online since the cards aren’t handwritten. Still, we might get lucky.

When he returned, I gave him the list and Carline’s information before sending her a text telling her I’d call her in a bit. I wasn’t sure what to do next. He seemed to realize this and led me to the great room where we could sit and talk some more.

Robichon’s face grew serious as he broke the silence. Do you feel safe being here alone, or is there somewhere else you’d rather stay until we know what’s going on? Maybe your parents?

I stroked Ripley as Hicks came to sit at my opposite side, earning my other hand. I think I’m pretty well protected. I have an alarm system, and sensors on the driveway. I made a mental note to find the information and be more diligent about actually using the safeguards I’d put in place. I didn’t need to let him know I rarely used either. If that changes at any point, I have several options, but none of them would be my parents. He looked confused. Please don’t share this with them. My dad would... I hated this was true, treat me like his baby girl. Officer Robichon smiled. Thank you for making me feel like I’m not overreacting.

You did the right thing by calling. Do you have anything set up in the woods around the house for monitoring? Trail cams for example? I didn’t since I wasn’t a hunter. I don’t want you to worry. He took out his card and wrote on the back before handing it to me. The front is on duty, and the back is my personal cell. I don’t live far so if something happens or you’re nervous, call me. I can be here in five minutes if I’m coming from the house. Either way, I’ll get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, I’ll make sure we have this road patrolled more frequently.

He stood. I want to assure you your pen name won’t be referenced directly in the paperwork, only that you write under a pen name. I’ll share it only if it’s necessary. I think the local angle is a more realistic approach. I nodded. I’ll connect with Ms. Roberts and make sure she hasn’t noted anything unusual, but I suspect she would’ve alerted Mr. Falcone if she had any concerns.

I thanked him feeling a bit of my anxiousness dissipate since his hypothesis was so logical. Hadn’t I written that same scenario myself? It made more sense than someone figuring out CJ Wilder was me.

Still, a stalker was a stalker, so I was glad I’d called the police.

After he left, I called Lucien and Carline, giving them an update. Lu asked me to reconsider visiting him, but hell would have to freeze over before I fled from my home.

I could only hope my stubbornness didn’t get me killed.

Chapter 2

Saturday’s late morning sun reflected off the lake. A powdery dusting of snow had fallen overnight, but would probably melt before noon. As I pottered around the house, Ripley barked sharply. I turned to see her focused on the front door.

Someone’s