But she felt foolish calling the police. In her movie that bombed, she was the victim of a deranged stalker, someone who left her dead roses. If she reported the incident, the press would have a field day. They might think she was making it up to get attention. But it had happened before. Was it the same person who had left the flowers in Los Angeles? Or someone else who had seen that embarrassing movie and came up with the same sick idea?

Cleo tried to ignore it when it happened again a week later. But the third time she found dead flowers at Edna’s, they were by the front door, and there was a note covered with bloodstains. Cleo packed up her car and fled. She didn’t want to tell Daisy and worry her. Daisy was in the Florida Everglades, covered with insect bites, finishing her movie. As soon as the movie wrapped, hopefully soon, she’d fly to Newark. Cleo would pick her up and they’d drive back to California together. The log cabin resort seemed like the perfect place to disappear and wait for Daisy.

As Cleo sat at her computer, she remembered how scared she’d been when she read the note.

CLEO GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE YOU GET HURT.

It’s a miracle I was able to make myself go back in the house and pack anything, she thought. Cleo put her head down on the log cabin desk. She felt a splinter in her forehead and bolted back up.

That note I left! I said I was leaving early to do a role in a big movie. I needed an excuse because I told Edna I’d be there when she got back on Sunday. Is she blabbing to everyone about that?

A knock at the door startled her. She called out, “Can I help you?”

“Miss Long?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Gordy from the front desk. The boss doesn’t think I properly welcomed the people who checked in this morning. So I’m trying to go out of my way for everybody. I’m going down to the market. I was wondering if you needed anything. You’ve been in there by yourself for several days now …”

Cleo rolled her eyes. She’d told them she was writing a book on meditation but was sure that Dirk Tapper didn’t buy it, even though she didn’t think he recognized her. He had appeared at the door the other night asking if she wanted to roast marshmallows at the campfire with the rest of the gang. She’d declined the offer. Now she’d decline Gordy’s.

“Thank you, Gordy, but I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’d open the door but I’m still in my bathrobe.”

“You sound like my mom. She doesn’t like to be seen with curlers in her hair.”