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“Don’t open it,” Jasmine cautioned.
“I need to know what’s inside.” I inched closer, bending down and looking at the sides I could see without touching it.
“Why?” she demanded. “Maybe you should call the police. Like right now.”
I couldn’t tell her the truth. After the incident with the phone call, I was swimming in anxiety. Maybe Talon was into something more dangerous than I originally thought.Or maybe this is about you.“Because I need to know. Okay?” There was no label of any kind, no indication of who or where the box had come from. “Get me a regular knife.”
“Why?”
“Just do it, Jazzy.” While I remained where I was, I scanned the alley, my stomach churning as I made certain there were no creepers hanging around. This had to be another ‘treat’ for Talon. I was beginning to wish I hadn’t signed a contract with him. At least his works would only be up for ten more days.
“Here,” Jasmine said as she handed it to me. “You’re crazy.”
“Maybe so.” I took a deep breath, holding it as I used the flat portion to lift the lid. Then I jerked back, falling on my butt. “Fuck.”
“What is it?”
“A rat. A very dead, decapitated rat.”
“Oh, my God. Youneedto call the police.”
I managed to get to my feet, turning away and taking several deep breaths. “And say what? A box with no identification was dropped off near the back door of my gallery that just happens to back up to an alley with several additional businesses surrounding it? I assure you that there won’t be any fingerprints or other identifying marks.”
While I sound nonchalant about the delivery, I was trembling enough a cold chill passed down my spine.
“How do you know that?”
“Because it’s an old trick used by the mafia. They’d send a dead rat to a person who ratted them out as a warning. By then it was too late.” Mafia. My father. My uncle. This couldn’t be happening. I bit my lip, shifting my gaze from one direction to the other. My damn uncle would do something this sick. Why not just snatch me off the street?
“How do you know this?”
I’d spouted off the information without thinking. “That’s been in dozens of mafia shows.” I shuddered thinking about my father, driven back to memories I’d shoved aside as long ago as I could remember. I’d been able to block out the night they’d been killed, but as the memories came rushing into my mind, I almost doubled over.
Blood everywhere.
On the walls. On the floor. On the furniture.
And I’d found it.
I was supposed to have been home, but my cello lessons had run late. I bit my lower lip, still able to see my mother’s vacant eyes.
Lightheaded, stars floated in front of my face. I had to get a grip. I couldn’t go down this path. Not now.
“Are you okay?” Jasmine asked, breaking the trance.
“Yes. I just hate people.”
“I understand. Come back inside,” she pleaded as she touched my arm.
“I’m not leaving this here, not with guests arriving at any time. I’m just going to put it in the dumpster.” Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh… I almost let off a primal scream, just like I’d done…
Stop it. Just stop it.
“You shouldn’t handle it.”
“I’m a big girl, Jazzy. And I’ll wash my hands.” I waited until she closed the door before gingerly picking it up. I did what I could to hold my breath before heading for the dumpster, double checking there wasn’t a note or writing of any kind. Whoever had sent it wanted to play a sick joke. Either that or someone had a vendetta against Talon.
Or you…
