I knew I should call Rose back, but that damn envelope was burning a hole in my mind. I had to find out what my psycho sister had sent me this time.

I sat at my desk and slowly opened the flap. A sweet floral and clove smell hit my nose. The envelopes before had all carried the same scent, but not this strong. I pulled out the white paper and several white flowers fell out. I didn’t have Rose’s expertise, but I definitely knew what these were.

Azaleas.

Fear slithered in my gut. What did Kate know?

I placed the flowers on the desk and then opened the letter—handwritten, just like the others before it. Each of her hateful notes had started the same way, Dear sister, and each parceled out a little more information about her meeting with my mother. The first one had been a tease, telling me little other than that my mother had been wearing a blue shirt. In the next, Kate had said my mother looked like she was in her late fifties and not her actual age of forty-two. Let’s hope you age like a Simmons, sis!

Sometimes the threats were subtle; other times they hit me center mass. Kate had made one thing perfectly clear: when the time was right, she would make sure Joe knew what I had done. The what I had done part was vague enough that it could mean anything, except for the drawing she’d included in the last two letters—something that looked like an upside-down frying pan. Anyone else might have been confused, but I knew what it meant.

She was hinting that my mother had told her stories about our lives in Oklahoma.

But the azaleas . . . that was nothing my mother would have known about.

This note was longer than the rest. My pulse spiked. Usually I read Kate’s notes hoping for information about my mother, even though I knew deep down there was little chance she’d tell me anything about the woman who’d dumped me at my granny’s house when I was twelve. No. Now that this longer letter sat in front of me, I suspected she’d been toying with me these past months, working up to this moment.

Fear gnawed at my gut, but I took a deep breath and started to read.

Dear sister,

I hope this letter finds you squirming. How is our brother? I hear you and Joe are spending a lot of time together. He even went to the church picnic with you. How plebeian of him. How did you ever manage THAT? Joe’s allergic to anything religious, and he never gave me the time of day, so why is he spending time with trailer trash like you? Perhaps I wouldn’t be so judgmental if I weren’t also jealous. Why don’t you ever spend time with me, Neely Kate? After everything I’ve done for you . . . I’m beginning to think you love Joe more than me.

That won’t do at all . . .

I’ve been thinking a lot about your mother—what a hard life she’s had and how you were the cause of it. Do you ever think she wishes she’d gotten rid of you before you were born? Do you think the world would be a better place without you?

I bet Beasley thinks so.

You and I are so much alike . . . so many secrets. Have you ever had a secret so big that you were sure it would burst out of you? No, I suspect not. You’re such a great secret keeper. Me . . . not so much. You’ll need to tell me your secret for holding them in the next time you visit.

Don’t wait too long.

Your loving sister,

Kate

By the time I finished reading, I was close to hyperventilating. I’d hoped she was bluffing about what she knew—or at least exaggerating—but the azaleas and her mention of Beasley suggested otherwise. But how? It was all ancient history, buried deeply in my past. Or so I had thought.

And how did she know about Joe spending time with me and going to the church picnic? Did she have spies watching me?

The front door bell chimed, and Rose walked in with a coffee cup in hand. Since she was working outside today, she was wearing capris and a sleeveless shirt, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail bun. I knew she had multiple consultation appointments scheduled throughout the day—it was why she’d left her little dog, Muffy, at home—but she’d started off by going to see a client about a mixup. The phone call . . .

I shook myself out of my distress. “Oh, my stars and garters. Joe was here when you called, and I forgot to call you back.”

“That’s okay,” she said in a cheerful tone. “I was calling to see if you wanted coffee, but I see that Joe must have already brought you some.”

“It came with strings,” I said, folding the letter and trying to nonchalantly slip it in my purse in the desk drawer. While Rose knew Kate had written to me, she didn’t know much else about it. “He wants me to go up to Magnolia with him after work to look at kitchen cabinets.”

“Oh, is he remodeling his kitchen now?” she asked, eyeing the stack of mail on my desk. “Did the Pearson check arrive in the mail? I might have to pay them a visit to get their final payment.”

She moved closer. As she picked up the envelopes, she noticed the flowers scattered across my desk. Picking one up, she turned it over to examine it. “Azaleas? At the end of June?” Her gaze lifted to me. “Where did these come from?”

“A customer,” I lied. “A man came in and said he wanted some of those planted in his yard.”

“Where’d he get them? All the azaleas died out by the end of May.”

“Beats me.” I shrugged.

“That’s so strange . . . Did you set up a consult?”

“No. Turned out he wanted to buy the plants and do it himself. I told him to head over to the nursery.”

Rose lifted it up and breathed in. “This is a deciduous azalea. Their scent is stronger.” She set it back on my desk. “No wonder you kept them. They smell wonderful.”

I would have loved nothing more than to burn them to a crisp. But right now, I had a ton of questions that I couldn’t hope to answer myself, and if Rose was here, she could cover for me. “Do you plan to be here long?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “About forty-five minutes.”

“I need to run a quick errand. Can you cover?”

“Yeah . . . of course . . . How’d your car do coming in?”

“It sputtered along.” But we both knew it was on life support. I’d be better served to put the money toward a new one instead of fixing this one piecemeal. While Rose and I usually rode together, now that we were deep into summer, she was busy with consults while her business partner, Bruce Wayne, kept having to hire additional crew to keep up with the demand. She couldn’t worry about carting me around.

“Do you want me to drive you?” she asked. “We’ve been so busy this last week we haven’t had a chance for a good chat.”

I couldn’t help wondering if part of her wanted to come see what I was up to. I’d been anxious lately, kicking Rose’s mothering instinct into high gear, but she respected my privacy too much to outright ask.

Lord knew we both had secrets, some more obvious than others. I considered lying about where I was going, but I was tired of lying to her. Besides, if I really had to leave Henryetta for good—and I was beginning to think it might come to that—I wanted her to remember the good things about me, not a pack of lies.

“You stay here,” I said with a wave that suggested her offer was ridiculous. “There’s no sense in you wasting valuable work time to pick up some toilet paper at Walmart. Let’s plan a Grey’s Anatomy marathon this weekend.”

It wasn’t a lie if I actually did it. Or so I told myself.

She frowned as she studied me, worry filling her eyes. She would never push too hard, but I knew she would be there for me if I changed my mind and asked for help. This was what unconditional love looked like, although it had taken me a while to figure it out. Still . . . everyone had limits. A line they would refuse to cross.

What was Rose’s line?

I needed to get out from under her worried gaze. I grabbed my purse and hopped out of my seat, heading for the door. “I should be back in a half hour.”

“Neely Kate.”

I spun around to face her.

She paused and lowered her voice. “Have you gotten any more letters from Kate?”

Had she linked the azaleas to Kate? No. She was just worried. She’d probably been stewing about the letters and my refusal to tell Joe about them. “Nope. She must have realized she was barking up the wrong tree.”

“Huh.” I could see she had serious doubts. Especially since I hadn’t seemed quite like myself lately.

I’d regretted mentioning Kate’s letters to her as soon as the words had spilled out of me a couple of weeks ago. But I sure wasn’t telling her anything now.

If she found out what I’d done . . .

She wouldn’t find out. I’d make damn sure of it.

That’s why I was about to swallow my pride and pay a visit to Skeeter Malcolm, the king of the Fenton County crime world. Even if I was currently on his shit list.