The officer frowned.

“We have a report that he committed suicide, ma’am.”

Blood drained from my face. Had he run off into traffic after putting the cake in my car? The hairs on the back of my neck rose like soldiers at attention. As disturbing as the revelation was, at least it meant I was safe now. I wouldn’t have to endure his harassment anymore. It was a bittersweet feeling, but I didn’t want to celebrate too much. The last thing I needed was to arouse suspicion. If anyone had motive to murder Brad and make it look like suicide, it was me.

“O-oh. Okay,” I answered, “H-how?”

He turned around, exchanging a few words with the station, “Gas from the oven. It’s just like going to sleep,” he answered.

I raised a brow. Something wasn’t adding up. Brad lived an hour away from the strip mall. How could he have dropped the cake off, driven home, killed himself, been found dead, AND had a report filed about it?

“There has to be a mistake. He was here an hour ago,” I protested.

The man’s lips wrinkled into an awkward frown, “I’m sorry ma’am, but he’s been dead for a month,” he said.

That’s impossible, I thought, turning to the cake. My head was spinning. If it wasn’t Brad who had been sending me these cakes, then who was it? I felt my breathing accelerate beyond control as a burning sensation ran down my spine.

“Listen, ma’am, we’ll get an undercover cop in your area, all right?” suggested one of the officers, “We’ll catch whoever’s doing this.”

I nodded nervously.