Page 55 of Golden Burn

I’m so confused, still dizzy from our almost coupling, that I don’t notice the simple thing that has him so riled until he’s reaching for it.

It’s an envelope. White and clean, with a red wax stamp on the back.

Before he opens it, he takes his phone from his pocket and calls Dom.

“We have a situation,” he says.

“On our way.”

I lay my hands on his shoulder and lean around him so I can watch as he opens the envelope and retrieves the letter. In cursive, almost beautiful, handwriting is a message addressed to me.

Dear Harriet,

I hope you are enjoying the safari. I have sent you a bottle of whiskey, since you finished the first so quickly.

Looking forward to the impending nuptials.

Say hello to Odin for me.

From Cerbera.

My stomach drops.

Oh fuck.

20

Odin

‘Feverbreak’- Odette Feat Hermitutde

Finding a letter like this, on the bed I was going to lie Etta on, should make me explode. The fury is there, sizzling away. But I’m managing to keep it contained.

Etta stays tucked to my side of her own accord and it spurs me into calmness. Relative calmness. I still want to set Cerbera’s head on fire.

Dom and Ford arrive within a minute, the pair of them still dressed in their dinner clothes. Ford immediately does a sweep of the area, while Dom takes the letter and compares the handwriting to a sample we have of a contract Cerbera signed stored on his laptop.

“I’m not a forensics handwriting analyst,” Dom says as he hands it back to me. “But I’m almost positive it’s a match. But it’s a faxed copy of a handwritten letter. Post would have taken too long.”

I want to crumple the letter in my grip, but it’s evidence, and we are still unsure as to how it got here and how Cerbera knew where to find us.

Martise arrives shortly after, concern evident in her deep eyes. She heads straight for Etta. “Would you like a warm drink?” Etta looks up at me, her nails in her mouth. She trembles slightly, and it releases the cap on my anger for a second or two, letting it fill me, consume me.

“Go with Martise,” I tell her. “Pack your things.” She frowns, but goes with Martise to the other side of the cabin where our bags are located.

“Tell me I’m not delusional when I say it’s impossible for him to have found us,” I say to Dom, standing over him.

“You’re not delusional,” Dom replies. “We scanned everything for tracking devices twice, traveled completely incognito to get here, and stayed off grid except for the burner phones. Itisimpossible that he found us.”

I’m seething. “We’ve underestimated him, and he’s using that to mock us.”

Ford returns after a few minutes. “There are track marks leading to and from the main lodge. Nothing else. I hate to say it, but I think it’s an inside job.”

“You’re right,” Dom announces. He turns his computer. On the screen is a video feed showing the inside of our cabin from the camera Martise installed just for us.

It shows a man entering from the back deck, placing the envelope on the bed and a new bottle of whiskey in the bar cart, and then disappearing just as quickly.

My insides wilt.

---