Page 56 of Liar's Point

“As of now, we’re investigating Aubrey’s case as a homicide.”

Her face crumpled and she looked away. “Do you think... it was someone she knew?”

“At this point, Britta, we don’t know,” Emmet said, hating that it was true. “But we intend to find out.”

***

Cassandra’s porch light was out.

She cast a wary look at all the shadows along the sidewalk as she dug her key from her purse and unlocked her front door. As she pushed it open, something fluttered to her feet.

She switched on the hall light, and her pulse sped up as she saw the sealed white envelope on the doorstep. No address, no stamp. Just her name written across it in neat block letters.

cassandra

She stared down at it a moment, heart pounding. Then she quickly locked the door and peered through the peephole.

The sidewalk outside was dark and empty.

She picked up the envelope and carried it into the kitchen with her take-out bag from Thai Ginger. She set the food on the counter and studied the envelope. She didn’t recognize the handwriting.

Tearing it open, she found a gray card with a single white rose on the front and the words in sympathy printed across the top. She opened the card.

It was blank.

No message, no signature. She flipped it over. Who had left this at her door? Baffled, she stared down at the snowy white rose.

Her phone chimed, and she pulled it from her pocket. Reese. Probably wanting her to cover another evening yoga class so she could see her boyfriend. Cassandra set the phone on the counter without answering and looked at the card again.

It was just a card, nothing sinister. Anyone who knew she was friends with Aubrey could have dropped it off—maybe Danielle, or Reese, or one of her students.

Stop being so paranoid.

She set the card on the counter beside the ever-growing pile of junk mail. Maybe Reese had left the card for her. Reese was nice, actually, and Cassandra felt guilty about dodging her.

Her phone chimed again, and this time she picked up.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello.”

She’d expected Reese, but it was a man’s voice. A glance at the Colorado area code sent a dart of panic through her.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“I’m calling on behalf of Malcom.”

Her pulse skittered. “Who is this? Where did you get this number?”

“He’d like you to reconsider.”

She gripped the phone as a bitter stew of fear and anger churned inside her. She glanced at the front door, then moved to check the slider. It was locked. Of course it was. She never went anywhere without locking her doors. She nudged the curtain aside and saw the patio was empty.

But some eyes were invisible. She knew that better than anyone.

“Do you understand?”

Her temper flared. “Tell him he can forget it.”

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