The sensor light clicked on next to the door. The trail upstairs was well lit and easy to see from the road. The rustle of the remaining leaves on the trees and a car horn in the distance filled the air. A creepy fog fell like a curtain, shadowing the entrance to my home in a gloomy haze.
No need to wait around. I headed for the stairs. A quick stop at the mailbox at the base of the staircase, then up, taking two steps at a time. Something about the sudden bite in the night air and limited visibility made me opt for speed.
I was inside the house with the door locked behind me and the bolt thrown in record time. A click of the switch and the room flooded with light.
A rough sound hit me as soon as I stopped moving around. Heavy breathing. Mine. My chest rose and fell on harsh breaths. A little exercise and a less active imagination might be a good call.
My stomach grumbled and the sudden craving for leftover tomato soup hit me hard. I scanned the mail. A clothing catalog from a company that should be ashamed of its prices for a simpleT-shirt. Something from the school for Jeremy. Hopefully not a bill or some sort of disciplinary warning. I never opened his mail but temptation pulled at me. He’d always been a good kid, but I knew from other mothers how quickly that could change.
The only other envelope was white and formal-looking with my name in black ink. No address, which meant someone came to the building and dropped the correspondence in there.
“Great, more drama.”
I slid my finger under the seal. The paper acted like a blade. The edge sliced into my skin.
“Shit!” I hissed and swore at the same time.
A tiny droplet of blood bubbled out of the paper cut. I took a second to suck on it, then slipped the postcard out of the envelope. Thick paper stock and more print.
It’s started. Be ready.
I turned the postcard over. Nothing else. Just the cryptic note and no explanation. Who would send such a thing? And now I had a new nightmare to fill my head—be ready for what?
Chapter Thirteen
Stella
My mother bitched and moaned the entire time I called a rideshare and stuffed her in it. She’d polished off a bottle of wine while I was gone. Of course she did. That’s what all attentive grandmothers did while watching a toddler, right?
The woman would be the death of me unless Aubrey and this book guy beat her to it.
The one person I could count on was Lukas. Interesting, since I drove him screaming out of my life. More collateral damage from the Tanners. Dead or not, they’d taken a bunch of us down with them.
Lukas arrived ten minutes after Mom left. He set a white Chinese take-out container in front of me on the table along with a set of chopsticks. Our go-to meal—beef and broccoli and chicken lo mein. We’d each eat half a container, then switch. No need to dirty a plate. We’d been sharing this meal since we started dating and continued to do so long after we divorced.
Oddly comforting. Despite everything, including the bickering and the simmering rage he sometimes brought out in me, that’s how being with him, like this, just the two of us, felt. Call it habit or familiarity, we were bound together by a lifetime of unfulfilled dreams... and a desperate secret that could destroy us both.
He dug around in his container. His focus centered solely on the food. “Why in the world did you go to the café tonight? I thought you wanted to stay away from those two.”
“Your tone isn’t helping.” I couldn’t be any clearer about that.
He thrived on being practical, on planning out every move. It worked for him. Tonight, it worked on my nerves.
He dropped the container on the table. “Oh, I apologize, Your Highness.”
Okay, that tone was even worse. Condescending. Mocking. I wasn’t a fan of that either. “Is this really necessary?”
“You’re the one who called me.”
“Did I mess up a date?” I fired back the snide question, hating that I cared about the answer.
He sighed. “Stella, don’t.”
Right. Not my husband. Not my business. “Sorry. I’m on edge.”
His jaw unclenched a bit. “Understandably.”
His voice returned to its usual rich, deep sound, but would it kill him to deny the date thing?
