Page 66 of Coordinates of Death

She snatched it off the floor and turned it over.

Three words in block letters yelled at her from the top of the page.

I SEE YOU.

A picture of her and Kordell eating supper at the diner glared at her from beneath the words.

“No!” She crumpled to her knees, panic stealing her breath.

Not only had SBK been watching them, but somehow he had infiltrated her Wi-Fi and accessed her printer.

Chapter Twelve

Aurora fought to silence the spiraling chaos threatening to consume her, eased herself up, and bolted to her modem. She ripped the plug out of the wall to disconnect SBK from further intrusions before scanning the room, searching for missing items or files, but all were in place. She pivoted and examined Anna’s crime scene pictures and other notes she had written on the murder board. They, too, were still intact. She retreated from her office and locked the door before checking the rest of her condo room by room, proving to herself that the intruder had only breached her home through the internet. Five minutes later, she approached her front door and looked into the yard. The earlier storm had ended, leaving a fresh blanket on the ground. The snow glistened in her antique lamppost’s beam. If she liked winter, she’d say the beautiful display warmed her heart.

She disabled her alarm and opened the door for a better view of the area, clutching her gun in ready mode, in case the perp lurked nearby. A blast of powdery snow twirled around her bare feet, and she shivered. Aurora leaned out the doorway and scanned the trees on the edge of her property, but nothing stood out. You’re safe. He’s not—

An item on the front step caught her attention, interrupting her thoughts.

A yellow padded envelope with her name in bold letters.

And footprints in the snow leading up and down her steps, continuing along the walkway.

She squatted and read the mailing information. Aurora’s breath caught and she stumbled backward, falling on her behind. The address of her mother’s psychiatric hospital. Why would they send her something and hand-deliver it?

Or was it even from them at all?

Aurora sprang to her feet, relocked the door, and rushed to her kitchen, setting her gun on the counter. She opened a drawer and took out a pair of latex gloves. Dirk would never forgive her if this was indeed some type of evidence. She put them on and sprinted back to her front step, retrieving the package.

Assured of her safety, she locked her door and rearmed her security system. Aurora returned to her bedroom and tucked her weapon away, then crawled back into bed. No way she’d sleep after her eventful evening anyway, so she might as well read whatever was inside. Or should she leave it until morning? She traced the envelope’s edges with her gloved fingers, debating. Her curiosity won, and she opened the envelope.

Inside were several papers along with a box. She dumped the contents and picked up the pages, unfolding them.

Then dropped them as if she’d burned her fingers on a flaming-hot stovetop.

No, it couldn’t be!

Aurora breathed in, exhaling slowly to still her racing pulse. After several deep breaths, she picked the pages up again and held them under the nightstand’s light. She examined the writing and torn edges, confirming her assessment.

The pages were ripped from her mother’s journals. She picked up the envelope and looked inside, but the paper and box were the only items included. No note from the sender.

“How in the world?” Her shaky voice sounded foreign to her. Get it together.

But who could have gained access to her mother’s journal pages after all these years? She must contact her father to see if anyone had breached his home. Aurora read her mother’s first entry, the cursive writing crisp as if each word had been etched with careful precision.

I arrived at the Gravenstone Institute last night. So far, the patients and staff have been friendly, except for Ursula. She doesn’t like me, but that’s okay. I don’t like her either. When she brings my pills, I only pretend to take them. I’m good at pretending. I don’t like how they make me feel.

At least the food is yummy. One good thing. I hate that my husband had to send me here, but it’s probably for the best. Rory doesn’t love me anymore, and I don’t blame her. She—

Aurora sobbed and let the page fall from her fingers. She couldn’t read the rest. Not now. Maybe never. I’m sorry, Mom. Her shoulders sagged from the weight of the regret resurfacing at her mother’s words. Shame clawed at her like a hawk’s talons slicing into its prey. Piercing. Intense. You were a terrible daughter.

More tears trailed down her cheeks, and she failed to stop them. Didn’t want to stop them. She deserved the anguish.

Aurora set the pages on the bed and picked up the box. She held her breath and eased it open. Then cried out. Her mother’s favorite cross necklace lay nestled inside.

The necklace her father had buried with his wife.

Kordell checked the clock radio’s time. Eleven thirty. Why was he still wide-awake after such a tiring day? His body ached, yet his mind wouldn’t shut down, especially after what Aurora had told him regarding her sister, Anna. His heart went out to her for what she’d gone through. The darkness in her eyes as she spoke about the unsolved case haunted him. Because the same darkness also plagued Kordell—daily. Not only because of Cain forcing him to watch Aurora’s rape that day but because of the twelve hours of missing memory on the night he’d found the teenage girl in the Roches’ basement. That was when the darkness bled into Kordell, swallowing the light inside him and taking root.