Amish Christmas Emergency. Dana R. LynnЧитать онлайн книгу.

       TWO

      Alexa accepted the bottled water that Gavin brought to her with a smile of gratitude. She needed to have something in her hands to keep them from fidgeting. She sat in the conference room at the LaMar Pond Police Department. Sergeant Parker seated himself in a chair on the other side of the table. Gavin stood right inside the door. The rose and the note she’d received had been whisked away into evidence. She didn’t complain. If she never saw another rose again, that would be great. She never would have guessed that her day would have turned out this way.

      Unscrewing the cap, she lifted the bottle to her lips and took a long drink. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. How long had it been since she had last eaten? Too long. She had not had a chance to grab her lunch, and then things had gotten crazy. She needed something soon if she didn’t want her blood sugar levels to crash. She wasn’t feeling dizzy or confused yet, although she was a bit shaky. That could be from the shock of the morning’s events, though. But what if it wasn’t? She wasn’t fatigued, though, which was a good sign. She had her sugar tablets in her bag, but she should eat something too.

      “Do you need anything else? Something to eat?” Gavin inquired.

      She smiled at him, relieved. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. I was really sick years ago and developed type two diabetes. I’m feeling a little shaky. It’s probably nothing, but I don’t want to take the chance.”

      Gavin’s eyes widened with alarm. “You have diabetes? Hang on!” He bolted out the door. She stared at the empty doorway, mouth open. She hadn’t expected him to react like that. A chuckle from Sergeant Parker drew her attention back to the room. He shrugged when she lifted her eyebrows at him. Well, she might as well make use of the time. Opening her purse, she found her testing kit and quickly pricked her finger to test her levels. She grimaced at the number on the small screen. Definitely too low. Hopefully, Gavin would bring her something she could use. A few minutes later, Gavin returned. He had a tray in his hands. “I went to the cafeteria and found some orange juice for you.” He took it off the tray and handed her the carton.

      Gratefully, she accepted the juice and opened it. The juice was sweet and cold. Finishing it off, she tossed the empty carton in the garbage can.

      Gavin tossed to the remaining items on the tray. “I also got some food for you, seeing as you missed lunch. Eat what you want. Don’t worry about whatever is left.” He noticed her kit and nodded. “Good. I see you’ve already tested.”

      She examined the food he’d brought, pleasantly surprised. This was a man who knew diabetes. Salad, some sort of plain lean meat—turkey or chicken, she couldn’t tell which—and a small cup of applesauce. Her nutritionist had told her to limit her carbs, but make sure her meals were centered around protein and veggies. Interesting. Judging by his reaction, he’d dealt with someone with type two diabetes before.

      “Do you need anything else?” He hovered near her. If she said she did need something else, he’d probably run out the door again to get it. She quickly tried to put him at ease.

      “No, thank you, Gavin. I’m good.” She flashed a smile his way before picking up a bite of the meat. Chicken. She was being fanciful, but she could practically feel her blood sugar level stabilizing again as she chewed.

      Nodding, Gavin proceeded to close the door. It was time to get down to business.

      Sergeant Parker threw Gavin a look that could only be described as surprised. Why? Because she addressed the other cop by his first name? Was that wrong? He told her to. She decided that whatever it was, it wasn’t important.

      A laugh trickled out of her. It was a laugh filled with stress and nerves and very little humor. “I feel like I’m in trouble here.”

      “Nah.” Gavin shrugged. “We just need to figure out what we’re dealing with to keep you and everyone involved safe.”

      Peeking up under her lashes, she watched as Gavin stalked around the table to sit across from her. He was not a man who liked to sit; she could see that immediately. Even though his pose was casual—leaning back against the chair, long legs stretched out under the table so that his feet popped out next to hers—she could see the tension that danced across his broad shoulders. He had a careful smile on his face, but his jaw was rigid.

      No, Gavin Jackson was a man who liked to move.

      Not that she could blame him. She’d prefer to be almost anywhere than sitting in a police station right now, no matter how gorgeous the sergeants were.

      Heat crept up her face at the thought. Great. Did they notice? Sergeant Parker was writing something on a tablet. Good. And Gavin...was staring right at her, head tilted, a half grin on his face. Wonderful. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him she’d been thinking about him. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask.

      He shrugged and sat up a bit straighter, pulling his legs back to his side of the table.

      “One thing about all this that might be to our advantage is that our sniper obviously thinks Mr. Hostetler is dead.”

      “That’s a good thing?” she blurted.

      “Absolutely,” Parker answered. “If he thinks his target is dead, then Hostetler is easier to protect.”

      She nodded slowly. She could see that. If her admirer—she shuddered—thought that Noah was dead, he wouldn’t go after him again.

      “Alexa.” She raised her gaze to Gavin’s face. The smile was gone. “How long have you been getting flowers from someone?”

      How long had it been? She bit her lip as she considered. “I moved here in August. So I guess they started late October. Not frequently. The first time I received a rose, I thought Megan had brought it in to spruce up the receptionist’s counter. There wasn’t a note or anything. It sat there for a day before she asked if I wanted my flower. They’ve been coming every two weeks. At first I thought the whole secret admirer thing was really corny.” She took a sip of water, giving herself time to organize her thoughts.

      Gavin shifted in his seat. “You looked irritated when the delivery came. Was there something about the flowers that made you uncomfortable or nervous?”

      “Nervous? Yeah. I was afraid my boss would fire me. He’d been okay the first time. But as they kept coming, he grew angrier with each delivery. I don’t know why it bothered him so much, but I called the florist that had been used for the last delivery and told them not to accept any more for that address.”

      “Were all the flowers from florists?”

      Shaking her head, she answered, “No. It was about half and half. I’m not sure how the others were delivered. I would come to work and find them.”

      Sergeant Parker was typing on a laptop. She couldn’t tell if he was paying attention or not.

      A moment later, she got her answer. “Well, this last one wasn’t from a florist, either,” he said.

      “The name on the box,” she began.

      Gavin looked over at the laptop. “That name on the box is for a florist in Chicago. No way the flower was from there.”

      She cocked her head at him. “Why not? I’ve received flowers from there several times. Plus I used to live near Chicago. When my fiancé died fifteen months ago, I remember seeing flowers from Bressler’s at the funeral home.”

      She definitely did not like the look on Gavin’s face.

      Shaking his head, Gavin turned the laptop so it was facing her. The image on the screen was a building that had been decimated by a fire. A hollow sensation blossomed in the pit of her stomach. The headline read, Bressler Family Florist Destroyed by Arson.

      “The place was never rebuilt,” Gavin informed her.

      It