Which meant something was wrong. This was a trap.
Caro.
That’s what was written on the envelope.
Simply, understated Caro written in Sayer’shandwriting.
I couldn’t shake the paranoid feeling that I’d justwalked into something that I wouldn’t be able to walk out of, but I had to seewhat was inside the envelope. I mean, I was already planning on leaving tonight.There was nothing that could keep me in this town. Nothing that would entice meto stay. No matter what Sayer had been able to gather on me.
There was no reason to be scared of a paper. Or anenvelope. Or what was in it.
“Just do it,” I ordered myself. Shaking my head, Isnatched it up and wondered why it was so heavy. I meant to drop it in my purseand get the hell out of there. I meant to maybe just burn it before I ever knewwhat was in it.
But that wasn’t what I did.
And how could I have? This was my life. I deserved toknow what Sayer had done.
Chapter Twenty
The contents of the folder lay before me, overlapping,covering and revealing at the same time. It was exactly how I felt. Laid out,half of me completely exposed and the other half totally in the dark, utterlyclueless.
There were recent pictures of me from before Sayerrolled into town. I read the timestamp and tried to think about my life backthen. That was before the DC Initiative had even started renovation.
It was before Sayer had come here.
He’d hired someone to find me, take pictures of me.There I was walking out of the grocery story. There I was at work. There I waspicking Juliet up from daycare.
My guts twisted together. He knew about her then. Butdid he know she was his? He’d never brought her up. Not even once.
Then there were printed emails with his PI. Have youfound her? Sayer had asked. Maybe, his PI typed back. I’ll keep digging, but Ifound someone that matches the description. I want a picture, Sayer demanded. Notyet, his PI tried to reason with him, let me be sure.
Sayer had been unrelenting, Now.
That was the end of that email thread. I didn’t knowwhat happened next, other than Sayer must have gotten some kind of confirmationbecause there were pictures of me everywhere. With Jesse on his ranch, atFoote’s with Francesca, with Maggie and two coffees between us and big smileson our faces.
More correspondence, this time folded neatly in short,white envelopes—communication of some kind, only without addresses or returnlabels or stamps.
They weren’t even sealed.
I grabbed the closest one and pulled out the letter.
Caro,
Where are you? What did I do? Why did you leave? Whenare you coming back?
I need you to come back.
I just need you.
Sayer
My heart twisted in my chest, wringing out like a wetsponge. It wasn’t dated, but I could guess when he’d written it.
I opened another letter that seemed to predate thefirst one.
Six,
I’m starting to worry. I haven’t seen you in twoweeks. I expected you a while ago. Are you in danger? Is something wrong? Did Ido something to piss you off?
