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Drake arrived about twenty minutes later. I heard his keys turning in the lock and he ran up the stairs. His face was pale, and he came right over and sat beside me, taking me into his arms.
“Daddy!” Sophie said.
“Hey, Sweetheart. Watching Frozen again? It’s going to be worn out if you watch it too many times.”
“Oh, Daddy…” she said and laughed, turning back to the flatscreen.
With Sophie focused back on the movie, Drake turned to me, his brow furrowed. “How are you?” he asked, his voice soft. “You okay? I called the local precinct and spoke with a nice Detective. Someone will be by to take our statement.”
I took in a deep breath and pointed to the pages on the coffee table. “There they are.”
Drake examined them without picking them up. “The Detective told me not to touch them without wearing gloves.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, realizing my prints would be all over them. “I never thought of that.”
“You couldn’t help but touch them. I wonder who has it in for me?” Drake said, his voice soft. I knew he was trying to keep his voice down so he didn’t alarm Sophia. “This has to be a threat directed to me. A warning.”
“Is there anyone connected to Lisa at the hospital who might not want you back working there?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Drake sighed. “She was friends with a few residents before she was expelled. But why would any of them have it in for me? They would have to know she was found responsible for Jones’s suicide and for Richardson’s murder.”
“Could it be her brother? Is he free already?”
“Not as far as I know.”
I shrugged, wracking my brain to think of who would want to threaten Drake by sending a photo of me and Sophia.
“He had a five-year sentence, right? He should still be in prison.”
“He should. The police will know.”
We sat in silence for a moment, watching Sophia, who was luckily completely absorbed in her movie.
Within fifteen minutes, the buzzer sounded, and I knew the police were there. Drake went to the video display, which showed who was at the front entrance, and sure enough, there were two plain clothes detectives, one of them holding up a badge to the camera for us.
“Detective Davis and Alvarado. We’re here to speak with you about a matter you called the precinct about.”
“We’re on the second floor. Come on up,” Drake said and buzzed them in. As we watched, they entered the building.
When we heard the sound of them coming up the stairs to the front door to the apartment, Drake opened the door to admit them.
Detective Davis was a man in his fifties, with greying brown hair and a moustache. Detective Alvarado was Hispanic, was clean shaven and balding. They were wearing dress shirts, ties and jackets, and looked every inch the detectives on the job.
“Come in,” Drake said and opened the door wide. “We can go into the office and talk. I don’t want my daughter to be alarmed.”
“Sure,” Davis said, and the two detectives followed Drake into the office. I went to the coffee table and picked up the sheets of paper with the photos on them.
“Sophie, we’re going to be talking to the two friends who came for a visit. You can keep watching the movie. We won’t bother you, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, seemingly unconcerned about the visitors.
I went into the office and held out the sheets of paper for Detective Davis. “Here’s what we were sent,” I said. “Unfortunately, I touched them, but I had no idea what was inside the envelope, or I would have worn gloves.”
“No problem,” Davis said and slipped on some black latex gloves. “We’ll take your prints so we can rule yours out.”
He took the two pages and examined them, shaking his head. “Do you have the envelope, too?”
“Yes,” I said and went to the file tray on the desk. The envelope was there, the top ripped open. “Here it is.”
