Chapter 22
The moment I open the package Bradley Reese gave me, my life splits in two: before I know too much, and after it’s too late. But I need answers before someone decides to make good on that death threat and turns me into a missing persons poster with an unflattering photo.
The padded envelope sits in the center of my dining room table begging to be opened.
Leftover Chinese takeout reheating in the microwave sends a waft of soy sauce throughout the house, and the LED lights in the chandelier overhead blink like they’re on the fritz.
I can’t sit still, and I can’t stand either.
Every muscle wants to move, to head for the horizon away from this whole mess.
But running has never solved anything. It just postpones it.
I circle the table once, then twice. My bare feet stick slightly to the hardwood.
Luca stands a few feet away, leaning against the china cabinet with his arms folded.
His greasy hair is pulled back in a ponytail that I’ve offered to cut into a more grown-up style, but he prefers the garage band look.
The sweater he’s wearing that I salvaged from my garage storage bin of Stew’s old clothes fits so snug it looks like it’s one deep breath away from ripping like a Hulk reenactment.
“You don’t have to open it,” Luca says for the umpteenth time.
“Yes I do,” I reply for the umpteenth time.
“Bradley didn’t say what it was?”
“Nope.” And Bradley never misses a chance to explain something, which tells me everything I don’t want to know.
I pull out a chair and sit, bracing myself, while Luca pushes off the cabinet, then hovers over my shoulder.
Long stray hairs tickle my cheek as he’s leaning too close.
He doesn’t know better than to crowd me when I’m like this.
There is a very specific kind of resolve that comes when knowing something is going to hurt you and choosing it anyway.
My dentist relies on this same masochism to stay in business.
I slide my nail under the packaging seal and peel it open. I pour out the contents on the table. The first thing that drops out is a black pen drive.
“Is that all of it?”
“No.” I gently squeeze the package and it crackles and bulges. There’s something else inside. “That’s just the appetizer.”
I push the pen drive aside, not touching it any more than I have to. A folded sheet of paper slides out next. When I unfold it, I recognize the block handwriting immediately. It’s Bradley Reese’s neat lawyery script:
Someone sent this to me. Maybe you know what this is about.
I tilt the envelope again. A white plastic baggie slips out and lands on the table soundlessly. Written across it in thick black Sharpie, all caps, is my name:
SHARI CATALANO
It’s the baggie the jewelry store had placed my repaired necklace in. I open it and turn it upside-down. The familiar necklace spills out onto the table, the two intertwined lilies with petals curled together like they’re sharing a secret. Except it’s not sparkling like it should.
Dark red stains the gold, caked into the grooves, smeared across the petals. It looks like the lilies are bleeding.
Luca recoils a step. “Is that—”
“Blood,” I answer. “Someone stole this from my car and sent it to my lawyer.”
“Covered in blood,” Luca fills in the blanks. He looks at the necklace again, then at the pen drive. “Whose blood do you think it is?”
“I don’t know, but I hope whatever is on this pen drive answers that question.”
I already know whatever is on the pen drive won’t solve everything because nothing is ever that simple. I pick it up, head to my laptop sitting on the coffee table in the living room, and plug the drive in. The computer hums, locating the files. There is only one folder saved:
Vick
Vick, I’m guessing short for Victor, must be Bradley’s private investigator.
I click on the folder and read the file names of half a dozen documents.
Whatever is on it must be life-altering for Bradley to have come all the way to Doomwood Falls to hand deliver it to me in person.
I just hope whatever he found is worth it.