“Nothing.” I swallowed. Okay. I needed to process this. Then my gaze caught on the narrow silver mailbox next to the garage. “No.” Almost in a daze, I moved for it. It was impossible. For years, Jareth Davey had sent cards to the post office box. Not once, not in college or law school or my summer camps had he found me. My hand shook as I opened the box and drew out my mail. Several bills and a big pink envelope. I swayed.
Aiden was off the bike in a second. “What is that?”
I let everything but the pink envelope drop to the ground. My legs shook harder than my hands as I flipped it over. My name with no return address. It was stamped as being processed in Spokane, which was our closest processing center. “Oh, God.”
Aiden took the envelope to open. I let him. “What is this?” He flipped open a card with flowers and a Happy Anniversary on it. Then he opened the card. Nothing was written inside. “I don’t understand.” But an awareness sparked in his eyes as he put the pieces together. “Anniversary?”
“Yes.” Tears clogged my throat, and I looked wildly around at the peaceful trees on either side of us. “He sends one every year and then also a Christmas card, always postmarked from different places. He sends them to my post office box in Silverville. Never to wherever I’m living at the time.
Aiden’s jaw hardened, and his eyes drew down. “Are you serious?”
Numbly, I nodded. “Yeah.” Jareth Davey knew where I lived. He’d mailed the card from either Timber City, Spokane, or one of the numerous smaller towns around the area that had its mail processed in Spokane.
What was I going to do now?
Aiden shook his head. “Your family hasn’t taken him out?”
I coughed out a laugh. “We can’t find him. The cards have come from Austin, New York, Los Angeles, Denver, Paris, and even Nantucket Island.”
Aiden froze. “Are you kidding?” He turned the envelope over in his hands.
I shook my head.
He looked around as well. “When did the one from Nantucket come?”
I frowned. That was a freaking weird question. “I don’t know. Maybe three years ago?”
Aiden handed over the envelope, his expression harder than iron. “Guess I’m not done saving you, am I?”
Chapter 23
With one phone call, my family descended upon my cottage like the wrath of the Irish and Italian mobs. My sisters arrived first, followed by my parents. The Silverville sheriff came with a tech and took the envelope, promising to get the envelope processed as soon as possible. It didn’t matter. Although both Aiden and I had touched the envelope, Davey had never left a fingerprint, and I was sure he hadn’t started now.
There was no way to trace the cards to him. Not legally, anyway.
Aiden had taken off the second Tessa had arrived, still oddly quiet about the entire situation. It probably did seem weird.
My family and I ate a bunch of food, and we talked about everything except Jareth Davey. While my uncles had tried to find the guy through the years, no doubt Nick had contacts they didn’t. He’d made the offer, and it was time he came through. I wasn’t sure what I’d do with the information, but I needed it.
My parents went home around ten, having to drive fifty miles across the mountain pass, and my sisters stayed the night. We watched old movies and ate too much popcorn, and I only got a couple hours of sleep before I had to go to work.
Thursday was a light day for me with no court, so I dressed in nice jeans and a blue blazer, not really caring what anybody thought. After a cursory check in my office, I left and headed down to the war-room, where I found Nick drawing connecting lines between Aiden Devlin, the Lordes, Melvin Whitaker, and Scot Peterson. Pictures of Randy Taylor and Cheryl Smythers remained to the side.
He finished drawing his last line as I walked in. “I talked to my brother in Silverville and heard about the anniversary card sent to your house.” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes clear and bright. Definitely more awake than I was. “I’ve already reached out to contacts in the military and will have a location for you as soon as possible.”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out until I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”
Nick turned to face me, also wearing jeans and a blazer. Apparently he didn’t