CHAPTER 1
CORALINE
Your days are numbered. I’m going to kill you, Coraline Rosa. You know what you did. You can kiss your life goodbye soon.
This person. They know my real name. It’s not my pen name. It’s not my artist name. My legal government name, and they want to kill me. It’s pretty straight to the point. Someone is lurking, watching me, and wants me dead.
After sifting through the mail, this one quickly caught my eye. It stood out because there was no return address. The writing was done in cutout magazine letters. Everything about it wasoff. I have to be in Alaska for an event, and I’m unsure what to do now.
Should I still go? Maybe this is all a sick prank.
I bite my lip as I hold it in my hand, flipping it over and over again, hoping there’s a clue to whoever did this.
Who have I pissed off lately? I look out my car window, but all I see are service members—Army soldiers—walking down the cemented sidewalk, and families going in and out of the coffee shop next to the post office. I’m trying to see if I cancatch any familiar faces, with eyes that hold vengeance directed toward me, but nothing rings a hazardous bell. Nothing is out of the ordinary.
Shaking my head, I let my forehead collide with the steering wheel.
Stop spiraling, Cora.
Is this a sick joke? Who would want to kill me? I draw, for crying out loud. I keep to myself as much as I can. I'm afraid of my own damn shadow.
I’m twenty-seven, and someone wants to kill me? I’m not a malicious person. I always give more than I take. I’ve never gone out of my way to hurt someone. I…
A group of cruel suspects comes to mind. Is this another way to torment me? To hurt me? As if what they did a few months ago was not enough to drive me into a state of mind where I was drowning?
Are they capable of going to these lengths to harass me? Threatening my life as a new form of torture for their entertainment? Do they not have anything else to do but reach a new low to harm me?
It’s sick.
Maybe it’s them, maybe it’s not. My grip on the letter tightens as anger rushes through me. Sucking in a deep breath, I place it back at the bottom of the mail and stuff it inside the center console. I’ll throw it away when I get home. I put my car into reverseand foot on the gas to exit the parking lot. My tires run smoothly over small potholes and rocks. I continue to drive down the road, replaying everything I’ve ever done, and I can’t come to any conclusion.
It’s just a sick joke.Don’t overthink it.
The phone starts to ring in the car, and I see it’s my agent, so I click the green button to answer.
“Hey, Maya! What’s up?” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, letting the stress of that ominous letter leave my brain.
“Hello, Cora. So I booked you a hotel a couple of miles from the event. It’s high in the mountains with an amazing view. You’ll have to catch a taxi or an Uber to get to the event, but I couldn'tnotput you in this place!” She squeals with excitement as if she were joining me. This is why I love my agent. She’s so positive all the time. She doesn’t know how much her words of encouragement and support affect me. Even if she can’t be there with me to enjoy the experience, she takes care of me.
“Okay, as long as it’s Anchorage!” I smile as I tilt my head to the side excitedly, already picturing all the cute stores I’ll get to shop inside and the food?—
“It’s…not.” Her voice is merely a whisper; I could’ve mistaken it for static.
“Wait, say that again. It sounded like you said my hotel isn’t in Anchorage?”
Did I hear her right?”
“It’s a little small town right outside of Anchorage. It’s called Sleepy Coldwater. It looks so much like Juneau but better. I grew up there!”
Sleepy Coldwater? I’ve never heard of it.
“How far is it from the event?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Maya…that’s a little far,” I say, my shoulders slouching with stress.
“Fine. Fine. Would you like me to rebook?” Her fingertips clack away on her keyboard in the distance.
