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“Darker. And the letters are shaped differently.”

Eden bent beside him. The first paragraphs leaned to the right; the last sentence stood straighter, with a sharp hooked tail on the J of Josiah.

“Another person?” she asked.

“Could be. Or somebody trying to make it look that way.” Jesse gave the letter back. “Whit needs to compare it with what they found at the crossing.”

She folded it carefully. “You think Pike added the line about my brother?”

“I think somebody wants you to think of Pike.”

That was a harder possibility than she had considered.

“Whoever wrote it knows about Josiah.” Her voice held steady, though she was not sure how. “They know what happened to you.”

“They know Crowley talked, too. Otherwise, they wouldn’t bother explaining why he left me alive.” Jesse looked at the door. “Get Bass.”

Eden rose, then stopped. “Jesse.”

He met her eyes.

“I want to go find the man who wrote this.”

“I know.”

“I want to ask what he did to my brother.”

“Then we find him,” Jesse said. “With Whit. Where he can’t hurt you.”

It was the first answer anyone had given her that did not ask her to set her anger aside.

She went for Bass.

By the time Whit arrived, Simon had joined them from the bank. The men gathered around Nate’s desk in the front room, leaving Jesse’s door open so he could hear. Eden sat near the desk with the letter in front of her. Emily remained beside Bass.

Whit read the threat twice. Then he examined the bottom line.

“Two hands, perhaps,” he said. “I won’t swear to it without something to compare.”

Simon laid down the map recovered at the south crossing. “The church is marked here, and so is the old Chapman road. If they expect a bell at nine, they can listen for it from several places outside town.”

“Could be they mean to collect a signed deed,” Bass said.

“Could be they mean to draw you into the open,” Whit replied. “Crowley’s already tried a diversion once.”

Eden thought of the shattered clinic window and the back door standing open. That had been Crowley’s scheme, carefully timed. Rusk might be no less willing to use the same trick again.

“Then we don’t gather everyone at the church,” she said.

Simon looked up.

“They named the church bell,” she continued. “We’ll all be watching it tomorrow. They know that. This letter says they’ve noticed the women meeting at Marmee’s.”

Whit rested one finger on the map. “Someone has been watching more than the crossing.”

“Marmee keeps records,” Simon said. “Letters, names, references. Not all of them are in the bank.”

Bass’s expression darkened. “If they know…”