Page 27 of Savage Seduction

"Great, I will see you there in an hour."

"Thank you so much, bestie," I say. "You won’t be disappointed. I promise."

We hang up and I hurry to get ready. It won’t take me too long to get to our favorite coffee shop, but I need to be able to leave from there to go to work later. I gather up things I will need at work including some extra clothes and some I don’t mind getting dirty just in case. I expect that Dr. Austin is going to want me to help put up the exhibition and that is hard work and messy.

I arrive at the coffee shop and beeline for our usual seat. London is already there and has my coffee waiting for me. She jumps up from the seat and gives me a hug before we sit across from each other and enjoy a few sips of our lattes.

London leans in and whispers, “Tell me what’s going on. I can’t stand the suspense.”

I unzip my backpack and pull out the package. I place iton the table directly in front of her. “I haven’t opened it yet, but is there anything that jumps out at you about this?”

She shakes her head.

“Take your time, turn the box around, really examine it.”

London does as I suggest. She lifts it up and runs her fingers along the edges. There isn’t a single square inch she doesn’t scrutinize up close. After a few minutes, she sets the box back down on the table.

“Well?” I ask. “What do you think?”

London blinks a few more times as she gathers her thoughts. Her lips keep forming words to speak, but no sound comes out. Finally, she says, “It’s from him… isn’t it?”

I shrug. “I think it is, but I wanted your opinion.”

“The butcher-style wrapping paper… the twine.” She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms. “Shouldn’t we bring this to the police?”

“And say what to them? Excuse me, officer, can you please open this package to see if a serial killer sent it to me? Oh, and by the way, I think it’s from one you killed a few years ago. I would be laughed right out of the precinct… if not put into a straitjacket.”

“Okay,” she says with a nod. “At least it’s too light to be a bomb.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

“What do you want to do? Open it here?”

I look around the sparsely filled room and shrug. “We might as well.”

London pushes the box across the table toward me. “I’m here for moral support, but I don’t want to do the honors.”

I sigh and then take a couple of calming breaths. After reaching into my back pocket, I pull out a pair of latex gloves and put them on. I undo the twine, slowly pulling at the loose ends. “Can you reach into my bag and pull out the box ofstorage bags? The former cop in me wants to bag all this up for evidence, just in case.”

“Sounds reasonable to me.” London digs out the freezer storage bags and opens the first one. After I place the twine inside, she seals it and opens the next one for the wrapping paper.

I carefully undo the tape and unfold the paper. I remove the plain brown box and set it to the side before folding the wrapping paper into a neat square and placing it into the plastic storage bag. Next, I turn my attention to the box. First, I turn it over and look it over for any kind of identifying markings.

Nothing.

I pull the tape free from the box, place it into a bag, and open the top flaps. We both stand and look inside. The box is filled with shredded paper that's crinkled into packaging material. I'm careful to stick my hands into it in case there's something sharp that might poke me.

A few seconds of searching and my fingers touch an envelope and a hard, plastic container about the size of the palm of my hand. “What should I do first? Open the envelope or the container?”

“Oh man, I don’t know. The tension is killing me, but I’m scared to look into either of them,” she says.

“I think I’ll start with the envelope.” It isn’t sealed, so the sender hadn’t licked it, but I will definitely bag it anyway. After pulling out a folded piece of printer paper, I open it and read the message scrawled in wicked handwriting across the full page. I read the letter first silently to myself.

Stop! Do not go to the police. If you so much as check with that bitch who shot me, I’ll know, and the hostage will die. I sent you a memento of my affection. Something to remind you of me during this time we can’t be together. You were the one who got away. The one who I dream about at night. The one who Imarked as mine so no one else can have you. I’ll see you soon, sweet boy. Think of me in your dreams. We’ll be together soon.

I stand and drop the letter on the table and run to the bathroom. As soon as the door closes behind me, I turn toward the toilet, fall to my knees and vomit.

Sweat dampens my shirt and brow. I pull toilet paper from the dispenser and wipe my brow and then my mouth. My head pounds from the severity of my reaction and I have to push the sides of my temples to keep the room from spinning.

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