Nancy’s voice sounded from down the hall. “You can’t go down there.”

Sure enough, a small flash mob of media was walking down the hall, past Judy’s desk, and straight at her.

“This is ridiculous,” she said.

“How did they get up here?”

Judy rolled her eyes and stood her ground. “They have their ways.”

“Mrs. Evans?”

“Judy?”

She actually glanced behind her when she heard Mrs. Evans a second time. Then it dawned on her that they were talking to her.

She placed her hands on her hips and glared. “Brilliant. The best way to get me to say anything is to corner me at work.”

Flashes of light came in all directions. All Judy could see was spots and a sea of opportunistic reporters and paparazzi.

“Is it true you married the prime suspect in the assault that happened to you?”

“No comment.” She turned to José. “Don’t we have security around here?”

“What about the rumors about your brother taking on a movie role about this case?”

Now she’d heard it all.

Along with more employees returning from lunch, security finally showed up and nudged everyone with a camera and an unfamiliar face out of the office.

Mr. Archer stood beside Nancy while the media walked by.

Judy held her breath for a moment, wondered if the reaction to the media was going to end her internship sooner than she’d planned. The constant chaos of her presence might be great watercooler fodder, but for the boss . . . not so much.

“Place a note in the lobby, Nancy,” Mr. Archer said so everyone heard him. “Uninvited media presence will not be tolerated and trespassers will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” He smiled toward Judy, turned on his heel. “Welcome back, Judy.”

Her shoulders sank in a heavy sigh.

José patted her back. “Get settled. I need help on the Fullerton project.”

Despite the crazy beginning of her day, Judy smiled on the way to her desk. She set the coffee down and sifted through a couple of the papers her colleagues had placed on her desk. She really did look good in the red dress, she decided.

She opened the top drawer to clear off her desk and froze.

There, sitting on top of drafting pencils and magazines, sat her driver’s license. The one that had been in her purse her attacker made off with.

She lifted her hands off her desk as if it burned and nudged the drawer closed with her knee.

Forcing her lips into a smile, she cautiously stood and walked away.

After swallowing her first instinct, the one that told her to call the police, tell her employer what she’d found, she did neither.

Eyes followed her around the office. Only Judy now looked at everyone differently. Had someone in the office attacked her? If so, why? Or did the man responsible slip in the office over the weekend . . . with the media?

The Fullerton project received a fifth of her attention, but it didn’t seem José noticed . . . or if he did, he didn’t care. An hour in his office and Judy made an excuse to leave his desk. In the small kitchen, she found a box of sealable plastic sandwich bags, grabbed one, and returned to her desk. Using a tissue, she opened the top of her desk, carefully removed her driver’s license, and placed it in the bag. I really hope those crime shows on TV are right about collecting evidence.

She removed her cell phone from her purse, snapped a quick picture of her license, and dropped the bag inside, where she could get it to Rick.

She attached the photo to a text message.

Found this in my desk. It was in my purse the night of the attack. Don’t panic. Don’t call.

She hit send.

Her phone buzzed within ten seconds.

I’m coming to get you.

No! Don’t. Come a little early when it’s time to pick me up. Bring something to bug my office, small video, something. It’s time we find this guy and stop running from him.

She glanced up, didn’t notice anyone around her cubby. Her very stark space with very little room to hide anything. Her thumbs worked overtime with the next text. Send me flowers, a teddy bear . . . something. We need to hide what you bring somewhere.

When he didn’t text back right away, she thought he’d blow off her idea and barge in the front door. When her phone buzzed, she read his message and smiled. Don’t leave that office for any reason.

I won’t.

And text me every hour.

She blew out a breath. Fine.

Her insides shook, but she plastered a smile on her face and acted like nothing had happened.

Nancy allowed the kid delivering the flowers into the back office. Heads turned when he found her in José’s office. Yellow roses with white lilies.

Judy attempted to act surprised while she accepted the flowers. “Oh, wow.”

Before the kid could run off, she told him she needed to get her purse for a tip. “All taken care of, Mrs. Evans.”

The name kept pulling her back. The card simply said Thank. After arranging them on her desk, she sent a quick text to Rick. THANK?

He replied with a winking emoticon.

Not forty-five minutes later, the same kid arrived with a bouquet of sunflowers . . . big and beautiful. The card said You.

A small table in the corner of her cubby housed the sunflowers.

A dozen white roses arrived next, and José gave up having her in his office. Nancy walked with the delivery kid away from her office. Judy placed the card next to the other two. Thank You For . . . Safe to say Rick wasn’t done.

It was hard to concentrate on work with her office looking like a florist exploded nearby. She was reminded of the time when Karen and Mike had fought and Mike had over a dozen flower deliveries sent to her childhood house in Utah. The difference was Mike was apologizing with gifts, where Rick was just following her suggestions. Still, the smile on her face was having a hard time going away, despite the reason for the flower deliveries.

Her phone buzzed at four o’clock. “Judy Gardner,” she answered.

“Don’t you mean Evans?” Nancy asked with a laugh.

“Oh, my . . . is the delivery guy back?”

“Yes, and I have to tell you . . . I’m so freakin’ jealous right now I can’t stand it.”

Judy laughed. “Send him back.”

There were two teddy bears holding hands and dressed in wedding attire. The delivery came with a card. Marrying. The bears were cheesy, but so stinking cute. She sent a picture of the foot-tall bears to Rick.

Ten minutes before the hour, a hand appeared around her cubicle wall; in it was a single red rose with a card.