A few hours later, my best friend and I were heading out for brunch when the doorman stopped me. “I just tried to call you, Ms. Holland. You got another delivery from a messenger.”
“Oh?”
Nestor reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope, extending it to me.
“Thank you.”
He tipped his hat. “Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
Miles wiggled his brows as he opened the door for us. “Another gift from your master?”
I turned the envelope over, expecting to see my mother or Jagger’s handwriting. But I froze with one foot out the door when I realized it wasn’t from either of them.
“Oh my God.” My heart pounded in my chest. “Miles, it’s a birthday card fromhim.”
***
Detective Wallace yanked up his pants by the front buckle as he paced in my living room. “So this is the first contact he’s made in six years?”
Miles reached over and covered my hands with his, stopping them from twisting and wringing. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. “Thanks,” I whispered before turning my attention to the detectiveI hadn’t seen in years. “The last time he sent me anything was a card on my nineteenth birthday.”
“Why do you think he made contact again after all this time?”
I shook my head. “Maybe because I’m back in New York for my birthday? I moved out to California to go to school six years ago this fall.”
“But the cards stopped coming when you left?”
I looked to my mother, who had showed up an hour ago even though I’d told her she didn’t have to. “Mom? Did they really stop, or did you just tell me they did so I wouldn’t get upset?”
She shook her head. “They really stopped coming. I don’t live here anymore, but I did for more than a year after Sutton left while my husband and I did renovations to his place, and no card came. Plus, I sometimes still get mail here and the doormen just hold on to it. Nothing’s come.”
Detective Wallace scribbled some notes in his flip-top pad. “So if he knew you weren’t living here, this guy has likely been tracking you all this time.”
A chill ran down my spine. “But how? How does he know I’m back?”
“I don’t know.” Detective Wallace pulled something that looked like a tweezer from his pocket and used it to pick up the card. “Hopefully he left some DNA on this so we can find out.”
“What is she supposed to do?” my mother asked. “Sit here and wait for him to show up one day? What have the police done in the last six years to catch this man?”
“It’s still an open investigation, ma’am. But there isn’t much we can do without new evidence. Now we have some. We’ll also have the security video footage pulled from the lobby and see if that gives us anything.”
I looked to my mom. “Nestor said he was pretty sure the guy had been here before to deliver.”
Detective Wallace nodded. “If he used a messenger service to drop it off, the company should have records where the envelope was picked up. If he brought it himself, hopefully we’ll get him on camera.”
I felt all the color drain from my face. I don’t know why I’d assumed that the doorman recognizing him meant the card had been brought by a legit messenger. “You think he comes to this building so often that Nestor recognizes him? What does he want? What is he doing here?”
My front door burst open, and all four of our heads turned to watch Jagger storm in, followed by Edmund. I stood, and he rushed over and wrapped me in his arms.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I’m fine.”
“I’m going to find this fucker and kill him.”
“That’s probably not a good thing to say in front of the police, son.” Detective Wallace stood and extended his hand. “Detective Richard Wallace. And you are?”
