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He glances at my jeans.
“I changed clothes—my pants were dirty,” I awkwardly blurt out. “I’ve been gardening all morning…”
He doesn’t care.Shut up, Sylvia.
I set the envelope on the table.
“These are actual photocopies of the letters? Exact copies?”
“Yes.”
Carefully, Rhett removes the four white pieces of paper and studies each.
“This is it?” he asks.
“Yes. Numbers and a threat with a necklace. That’s it.”
“I assumed letters meant… actual letters? Filled with actual words, paragraphs.”
“Nope, except for the last one. The one with the necklace. The note reads, ‘you are next.’ As you can see.”
He frowns, looks at me. “You are next?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother’s killer sent you a note that reads you are next?”
“Correct, assuming it is Mother’s killer, yes.”
Rhett blinks, surprised by this, then asks, “What did the cops do?”
“Took everything, told me to be vigilant, to buy some security cameras.”
He shakes his head, displeased. “Who exactly took the necklace from you at the police station?”
“A kid named Officer Marino. Collected it as evidence.”
“Kid?”
“Well, not exactly. Mid-twenties probably.”
“I don’t know him.”
“He joined the station a few years ago.”
Just then, Shirley saunters into the kitchen, pointedly ignoring our guest.
“What the—is that?”Rhett gawks, showing the most emotion I’ve seen in him thus far.
“It’s a cat.”
“Where’s her hair?”
“She’s a Sphynx cat.”
Shirley shoots me a look before daintily jumping onto the counter, onto the top of the microwave, and curling herself into a ball.
I can’t tell if Rhett is enthralled by my house pet, or totally, completely disgusted.
