Page 9 of Coordinates of Death

“We need to get supplies first.” Kordell increased the magnification on the map and pointed. “That’s in the middle of a mountainous region. We can’t go in unprepared.”

“That’s your job.” She smirked. “I thought they called you the Mountain Man?”

“We still need to be prepared.” He stood.

She checked her watch. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning. After I update my leader and introduce you to him.”

“How will you tell him where you’re going without SBK knowing?”

“The message specifically said constables. Nothing about my leader. I can’t leave without at least informing him.” She gestured toward the park entrance. “How about we head to my place and grab a bite? We can make a list of what we need.”

“Perfect.”

Thirty minutes later, Aurora unlocked the front door and keyed in the security to her condo’s alarm system. Ever since her attack at age fourteen, she’d vowed to keep herself safe. She would never again put herself in a vulnerable position. The boys had caught her unaware, but that was a mistake she never wanted to repeat. Even though that dark, frightful night happened twenty years ago, she would never forget it. Every detail. Every moment.

It had been raining hard, and she’d been hurrying home after band practice when she sensed a presence behind her, but before she could turn, a heavy object struck her over the head, knocking her unconscious. She woke up in the creepy abandoned mansion she and her other friends had dubbed the haunted house, her heartbeat thrashing her eardrums. The musty smell told her she was in the basement. An annoying rap song blared from a tape player when two masked boys entered the room. She begged them to let her go, but instead of helping her, they took their turns and each raped her without a word, then left. She had stumbled home, soaking wet, terror clutching every muscle in her body. Her father had called the police, but the suspects were never caught because she couldn’t identify them. A couple of months later, she discovered she was pregnant but soon after miscarried. The shock of the combined tragedies thrust her into a depression. A depression that followed her into her adult years, threatening to overtake her being.

But multiple sessions of counseling and God’s protective blanket had kept her from going back into that pit.

And she vowed not to go there again—ever.

Kordell placed his hand on the small of her back. “You okay?”

She jumped and recoiled from his touch. Stupid, Rory. You just did what you said you’d never do. Let someone sneak up on you.

Aurora silently chastised herself. “Sorry, just lots going through my mind.” She tossed her keys into the bowl on the foyer side table. “Come on in.” She stomped the snow from her feet and sat on the deacon’s bench on the opposite wall, tugging off her boots. She wiggled out of her coat and hung it on a hook.

Kordell did the same.

“Hi, Rory. Hi, Rory.”

“What in tarnation is that?” Kordell’s gaze wandered around the hallway.

“That’s my African Grey parrot.” She beckoned him to follow. “Come meet her.”

They entered Aurora’s living room, and she pointed to the cage. “Kord, meet Lady Grey. Lady, can you say ‘Hi, Kord’?”

“Hi, Kord. Hi, Kord,” the parrot mimicked Aurora before cleaning its smoky-grey scalloped feathers.

“Hi, Lady Grey.” Kordell inched closer. “You’re a pretty bird. I love your bright crimson tail.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” Lady Grey cocked her head, her razor-sharp focus intent on Kordell.

Kordell’s jaw dropped. “Wait, did you teach her that?”

“Yes, I taught her to say thank you whenever anyone says pretty bird.”

“What made you decide to get a parrot?” Kordell walked around her cage, examining her. “Such a beautiful creature.”

“One of the cases I worked on prompted the idea. I visited the crime scene, and we heard an awful racket. The killer had shut the parrot in the bathroom. When I opened the door, the bird said ‘Hello,’ and I was hooked, so I looked into Canadian breeders.”

“That’s fun.”

“I move her around. She’s here during the day and in my bedroom at night. You know, kind of like a pet dog or cat sleeping with you.” Aurora laughed and motioned him toward her kitchen. “How about leftover pizza?”

He crinkled his nose.

“Oh, Mr. Billionaire’s Son. You too rich for cold pizza?”