but better to open it and find out.”
Colleen fished out her cell. “Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Disaster.” Colleen had grown up in a well-to-do family who’d been more amused than encouraging of her decision to attend law school. Her mother expected her to abandon the law and marry well. Colleen, with no eye toward a society life, had agreed to cast her lot with Rachel after a chance meeting in law school. Though Rachel admired her friend’s drive, she still laughed at the sheltered upbringing.
“I think we’ll be fine.” Rachel sliced into the top layer of tape until the top flaps separated and opened. Despite brave words, Rachel held her breath as she peeled back the flaps. Both women studied the popcorn-filled box. Rachel flexed her fingers and then dug them into the popcorn. Colleen tensed.
“Snake!” Rachel screamed and jerked out her hand.
Colleen screamed and backed up a step. She had trembling fingers as she dialed. “I’m calling the cops! Are you bleeding?”
Rachel laughed and waggled all her fingers. “Sorry. Bad joke. Couldn’t resist.”
Colleen hugged out a breath. “Bitch.”
“Guilty.” She pulled out a stack of letters, bound by a faded red ribbon. The letters were in creamy envelopes yellowed and curled with age.
“Letters,” Colleen said as she put her phone away. “At least it wasn’t a snake or a bomb.”
Rachel laughed. “You didn’t really think it was a snake, did you?”
“Maybe not a snake but definitely a bomb.”
Rachel undid the ribbon and carefully set it aside. She lifted the first letter and unfolded it. “It begins with, Sugar, you make my heart sing .”
“A love letter? Why would someone send you old love letters?”
Rachel studied the soft fluid handwriting, so precise and lovely. “I’ve no idea.”
“Looks old.”
“The paper feels brittle.”
“Who wrote the letter?”
Rachel flipped over the first page. Her heart lurched. “It’s from A.”
“A. As in Annie? As in Annie Rivers Dawson?”
A chill oozed over Rachel’s spine. “I don’t know.” She started reading the letter out loud.
October 13
Sugar!
You made me laugh today. Not a snigger or a giggle but a belly-clutching laugh! And that was a complete shock. I’d expected you to be stuffy and humorless but you had me giggling all the way home.
“Damn,” Colleen said. “If A. is the Annie in question who is Sugar?”
“I don’t know.”
“Annie was married at the time of her death.”
“I’ve not dug deeply into her past. I’ve read police reports but I couldn’t tell you much about her as a person.”
Colleen held the yellowed envelopes to her nose. “Lavender.” She scanned the text. “The gal who wrote this sounds pretty fun-loving.”
“Makes sense from what I did read about Annie. She was a singer who left her small Tennessee town to hit it big.”
Colleen held up the envelope, letting the light shine through the thin paper. “Who gave up that career and settled into a routine life.”
“She got pregnant. That changed a lot, I suppose.”
“What happened to Annie’s baby after she died?”
“Again, I need to find out. I’ve been focused on Jeb and getting the DNA and I’ve not had time to dig.”
Carefully, Colleen refolded the letter. “There’s no sense until you get the DNA back. Not like you’ve lots of Nancy Drew time in your docket.”
“Right.” Rachel dropped her gaze to the letter and reread it. “There’s a month and day but no year. And A. doesn’t necessarily stand for Annie.”
“Yeah, but why send you old letters from another woman?”
“To throw me off. To mess with me. You’d be surprised what people do.”
A frown wrinkled Colleen’s forehead briefly. “But if your Annie wrote these letters, we know it’s at least thirty years old. And I don’t know about you, but I’d like to know Sugar’s identity.”
Rachel held the sheet of paper up and studied the faded pigment and the
Colleen fished out her cell. “Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Disaster.” Colleen had grown up in a well-to-do family who’d been more amused than encouraging of her decision to attend law school. Her mother expected her to abandon the law and marry well. Colleen, with no eye toward a society life, had agreed to cast her lot with Rachel after a chance meeting in law school. Though Rachel admired her friend’s drive, she still laughed at the sheltered upbringing.
“I think we’ll be fine.” Rachel sliced into the top layer of tape until the top flaps separated and opened. Despite brave words, Rachel held her breath as she peeled back the flaps. Both women studied the popcorn-filled box. Rachel flexed her fingers and then dug them into the popcorn. Colleen tensed.
“Snake!” Rachel screamed and jerked out her hand.
Colleen screamed and backed up a step. She had trembling fingers as she dialed. “I’m calling the cops! Are you bleeding?”
Rachel laughed and waggled all her fingers. “Sorry. Bad joke. Couldn’t resist.”
Colleen hugged out a breath. “Bitch.”
“Guilty.” She pulled out a stack of letters, bound by a faded red ribbon. The letters were in creamy envelopes yellowed and curled with age.
“Letters,” Colleen said as she put her phone away. “At least it wasn’t a snake or a bomb.”
Rachel laughed. “You didn’t really think it was a snake, did you?”
“Maybe not a snake but definitely a bomb.”
Rachel undid the ribbon and carefully set it aside. She lifted the first letter and unfolded it. “It begins with, Sugar, you make my heart sing .”
“A love letter? Why would someone send you old love letters?”
Rachel studied the soft fluid handwriting, so precise and lovely. “I’ve no idea.”
“Looks old.”
“The paper feels brittle.”
“Who wrote the letter?”
Rachel flipped over the first page. Her heart lurched. “It’s from A.”
“A. As in Annie? As in Annie Rivers Dawson?”
A chill oozed over Rachel’s spine. “I don’t know.” She started reading the letter out loud.
October 13
Sugar!
You made me laugh today. Not a snigger or a giggle but a belly-clutching laugh! And that was a complete shock. I’d expected you to be stuffy and humorless but you had me giggling all the way home.
“Damn,” Colleen said. “If A. is the Annie in question who is Sugar?”
“I don’t know.”
“Annie was married at the time of her death.”
“I’ve not dug deeply into her past. I’ve read police reports but I couldn’t tell you much about her as a person.”
Colleen held the yellowed envelopes to her nose. “Lavender.” She scanned the text. “The gal who wrote this sounds pretty fun-loving.”
“Makes sense from what I did read about Annie. She was a singer who left her small Tennessee town to hit it big.”
Colleen held up the envelope, letting the light shine through the thin paper. “Who gave up that career and settled into a routine life.”
“She got pregnant. That changed a lot, I suppose.”
“What happened to Annie’s baby after she died?”
“Again, I need to find out. I’ve been focused on Jeb and getting the DNA and I’ve not had time to dig.”
Carefully, Colleen refolded the letter. “There’s no sense until you get the DNA back. Not like you’ve lots of Nancy Drew time in your docket.”
“Right.” Rachel dropped her gaze to the letter and reread it. “There’s a month and day but no year. And A. doesn’t necessarily stand for Annie.”
“Yeah, but why send you old letters from another woman?”
“To throw me off. To mess with me. You’d be surprised what people do.”
A frown wrinkled Colleen’s forehead briefly. “But if your Annie wrote these letters, we know it’s at least thirty years old. And I don’t know about you, but I’d like to know Sugar’s identity.”
Rachel held the sheet of paper up and studied the faded pigment and the
Similar Books
