“Not much to it,” he said.
“No. I joked with Rory that the person must be eight years old. Who slides shit under doors now? Totally juvenile. As if this is going to make me say, ‘Yep, I’m scared, need to stop because some mystery person told me to.’ Guess they don’t know me that well.”
“It’s a good thing they don’t,” Ford said. “I’d hate to think someone we’ve known has knowledge or played a part in Rene’s murder.”
“I’m not saying the person putting this note here did it, or maybe they did. The violence of that crime would lead me to think not, but I’ve been wrong before. It’s more likely they have some knowledge of it and it could disrupt their life.”
“You know what I’m going to say? Don’t you?”
“What’s that?”
There was another knock at the door. “That’s Clay.”
“Are you two attached at the hip or something?” she asked.
“You said I could tell him, but I didn’t need your permission,” Ford said, opening the door.
Ford bagged the note and handed it to Clay. “You didn’t touch it, right?” Clay asked, taking the bag.
“No. And why do you have it?”
“Because I’m sending it out to a buddy of mine and we are keeping this private and off the books for now. Problem with that?”
She smiled. “Not at all. Let’s go see Rory now. You won’t like his message. Just warning you now.”
“Tell us what it says,” Ford said.
“It told him to go home before someone else got hurt. There were two pictures. His sister and me,” she said.
Yep, exactly what she thought would happen.
Clay’s fists clenched, his lips tightened and his eyes landed on Ford’s who was having the same reaction.
“I don’t like you staying here alone,” Clay said. “Move into the cabin on the farm.”
“Oh, hell no,” she said. “I’m never staying in that. Too dirty, too rustic, too much like being a kid on the farm. There isn’t even enough closet space for my shoes.” Her hands were on her hips. “I don’t need a keeper. I mean it.”
Her brothers stared at each other as if there was an internal silent war of words she wasn’t supposed to know. A code of sorts and all it did was piss her off.
“For now, she’s safe here,” Ford said. “We have to decide if you want to ask for camera footage or not of who came into the building.”
“Do you really think whoever did this is stupid enough to be seen on camera?” she asked.
“As you said, notes under doors aren’t exactly a mastermind at work,” Ford said.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not sure I want anyone to know. I mean, let’s be honest, all of us are thinking it’s a tie to the McGregors, right? Seems a logical conclusion. They own this property. They can be on it with no one knowing, or even alter the camera footage.”
“That’s right,” Clay said. “And if you say nothing about this, there are two conclusions. You aren’t taking it seriously and it will piss them off. Or you are and don’t suspect them.”
“Or they could think I suspect them and don’t want to tip them off,” she argued.
“Which could rile them up more,” Ford said. “I’m with Clay on this. Let them know. We can keep an eye out for things.”
“What am I supposed to tell them?”
“The truth. You got a letter under the door, but don’t say what it was. Just that it was a little unsettling and you want to know if there was anyone other than residents in the building,” Clay said. “This person knows which condo is yours.”
“Of course they do. It’s on the mailboxes outside,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s a small town. Most know I live here and can walk around and find the building.”
