Chapter 18 - The Package|
The box was small, wrapped in plain brown paper, and left on my front porch. There was no return address, just my name printed in neat, block letters.
I brought it inside, placing it on the kitchen counter. Carter was out of town for a training exercise, and Lily was at school. The house was quiet. Too quiet.
I grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully slit the tape. Inside, nestled in a bed of packing peanuts, was a small, silver tin.
My heart stopped.
It was the heirloom tea tin. The exact same one the FBI had confiscated from Daniel’s home office.
I stumbled backward, the scissors clattering to the floor. My hands shook violently as I picked up my phone and dialed Carter.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I muttered, tears stinging my eyes. It went straight to voicemail.
I forced myself to walk back to the counter. Beneath the tin lay a single, folded piece of thick cardstock. I opened it with trembling fingers.
The handwriting was unmistakably his. The elegant, sweeping cursive of an architect.
“My mother was always too sloppy, Sarah. Did you really think a little explosion and a bought-off Mexican coroner could keep me away? I told you, my dear. I always win. See you soon. - D.”
I gasped for air, dropping the note. The room began to spin, that familiar, terrifying dizziness washing over me.
He was alive. He knew where we were.
I ran to the front door, slamming the deadbolt shut. I pulled the curtains tight and activated the security system Carter had installed.
May you like
I grabbed the silver tin and threw it into the trash, feeling utterly violated. The peace of Montana had been an illusion. He had let me feel safe, just to rip it away again.
I picked up the phone to call the local sheriff, but the line was dead. No dial tone. Nothing.
