I shuffled into the kitchen, letting Killer out of his cage on the way.
I made myself some coffee, making sure to use the biggest cup I had.
Killer hopped in, and I picked him up, cradling the tiny rabbit in the crook of my arm. “How did you sleep, little fluff?”
I sat down at the kitchen table to work and got lost in my latest project. My phone had been buzzing on and off, but I ignored it, knowing if I answered, I’d get distracted.
Once I hit the Submit button a few hours later, I curled up on the couch, checking my messages.
Three were from Quinn to tell me her parents had invited me over for dinner tonight. I responded that I’d be there and then checked my missed calls. There were two, both from unknown numbers.
I chewed my lip and debated whether or not I should just change my number. The calls were starting to make me nervous. What if someone from my old life had followed me to Ferguson?
A knock at my door an hour later ripped me out of watching a baking show calledShake That Cake. I was hooked after the first episode and was now a die-hard follower. The interruption was entirely unwelcome. It was also strange, since not many people knew where I lived.
I heaved myself out of the cocoon I’d created on the couch and went to the door, looking through the peephole. The guy on the other side held a package in his hand, and I recognized our local postman. This town was small enough to know most people, especially the person who delivered your mail.
I unlocked the door and opened it, trying to think of what I’d ordered.
Rick greeted me with his usual smile. “Package for you. Did you finally order that dress you had your eye on?”
I had a slight online-shopping addiction and kept the local postal service busy. But I’d tried to turn over a new leaf and hadn’t ordered anything in two weeks.
Regardless, I signed for the package, curious what it was. It was flat, ruling out clothes. I double-checked the label, but it only had my name and address on it.
After placing it on the table, I slid a knife through the tape. There was a sealed envelope with my name on it inside and nothing else. Strange.
I opened it, turning it upside down. My heart stopped when three pictures and a note tumbled out. All the pictures were of me. One showed me coming out of Deliziosa three weeks ago. I knew what night it was, since my hair was braided into an elaborate updo that Quinn had insisted on.
The second photo was of me in my favorite coffee shop. I couldn’t be sure when it was taken, since I was bundled up in my thick blue puffer jacket and was wearing jeans and boots. It was my go-to outfit, and I wore it often.
The last picture was of last night and showed me at the bar, chatting with Quinn.
I turned the note over. Two words:Found you.
I crumpled the paper up, stumbling back. I guess the phone calls were more serious than I’d thought. My former life had just caught up with me.
My breaths came out in short bursts, my hands fisted at my side. I needed a plan. One that had to be put in place after I’d gone to Quinn’s parents’, because I was supposed to be there in ten minutes.
Pushing any thoughts of my former life into a box, then locking and burying it, I put Killer back in his cage. Wrapping my coat around me, I left the safety of the apartment.
I figured if someone wanted to hurt me, they would have just done it. But sending photos first was meant to scare me. And I wondered who would be so ballsy. I might not have had my family’s protection anymore, but I was still their princess. All I had to do was pick up the phone and they’d be here. But maybe that was exactly what the person sending me the pictures wanted me to do.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with my problems. For now, I’d enjoy a night with my surrogate family.
Decision made, I drove the short distance to Quinn’s parents’ place. Paola opened the door as soon as I walked up the path to their house.
“Bellissima, there you are,” she said and hugged me before kissing each of my cheeks. I had loved her from the moment we first met and counted my lucky stars to have her and her husband in my life.
Quinn lived in an apartment above their garage, and I often joked that I would stay close to my parents too if they were Paola and Alonso.
Paola ushered me inside. “Come in, come in.”
I took my jacket off and hung it on one of the many hooks on the wall next to the door. Paola led me through to the living room, where Alonso was watching a game on TV.
“There she is.” He got up to hug me.
“Hey, Alonso,” I greeted him and dropped down onto the couch, looking around the room. “Where’s Quinn?”
