Page 68 of Coordinates of Death

“Yes. Let’s have a family meal right after.”

“I’d like that. Night. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Kordell smiled at their usual banter and clicked off, tossing the phone on the nightstand.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Who could that be at this hour? Aurora maybe?

Kordell whipped off the covers and dashed to the front door. He looked out of the side glass panel, but no one was there.

Odd.

He unlocked the door and eased it open, searching the front yard.

Only darkness greeted him.

An item on the step caught his attention. An envelope with his name written on it. The frost-laden air bulldozed him, stealing all the warmth from his body. Not only because of the chilly night but because someone knew his location. He scooped up the envelope and shut the door, relocking it. Kordell examined the front. It only displayed his name and Canadian Watchers Squad under it. No mailing information or return address.

He winced when he realized he’d touched the envelope. Stupid, Kord. He grabbed some nearby tissues and, using them as gloves, he gingerly opened the seal and dumped the contents.

A newspaper clipping floated to the floor.

He picked the paper up using the tissue. A message in bold letters caught his attention.

I know what you did.

SBK was written beneath the five words. The same message he’d given Aurora a few hours ago. What exactly was SBK referring to?

Kordell’s gaze slipped to the headlines, his heart rate ratcheting up.

Convicted Trafficker Released

Kordell sucked in a breath when he spied the trafficker’s name.

Sebastian Roche.

How did the Shadow Box Killer know about Kordell’s connection to the Roche family?

Aurora splashed water on her face, not only to wash away the regret but to compose herself before she called her father. Yes, it was late, but she had to know he was okay. She wiped her face and retreated into her bedroom, unplugging her phone from the charger. Let’s get this over with. She chose her father from her contact list and hit the call icon.

After three rings, the line connected. “Hello.”

Her father’s groggy voice indicated she’d woken him up. “I’m sorry to wake you, Dad, but I had to ensure you’re safe.”

“Of course I am.” He cleared his throat. “Why would you ask?”

“Dad, did you bring Mom’s journals with us when we moved to the Yukon?”

“Journals? What journals?”

Aurora picked up one page. “The hospital didn’t give you any of her journals?”

“No. Why?”

She explained about the pages she received in an envelope and the return address. “I was scared they broke into your home.”

“Pam never told me she kept a diary.” His voice trailed off.