A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1) - Darynda Jones Page 0,31
were taken from her room, Rojas would’ve had to case the house. He would’ve known about Sybil and how to get past the St. Aubins’ extensive security system. Since his file said he’d been in prison for three years of a seven-year sentence, she doubted he’d know how to disable a latest-and-greatest, top-of-the-line security system.
If he’d been hanging out by the lake, however, he could have formed a connection with Sybil. Become friends. Lured her out of her home and convinced her to meet him somewhere.
“However unlikely, it certainly can’t be ruled out,” she said. “This says he was in prison for armed robbery. No assaults of any kind?”
Both marshals shook their heads, but Deleon made a good point. “Desperate men tend to do desperate things.”
“That they do.” Sunshine would be a fool to ignore this turn of events.
The marshals stood to leave. Sun walked them out the side entrance.
Batista shook her hand again. “We’ll talk to Douglas first, then we have an appointment with the parks and rec officer. We’re hoping he’s seen Rojas in the area. We’ll keep you apprised either way.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Any good places to eat?” Deleon asked before leaving.
Sun named off a few. That was a perk of living in a tourist town. Good food.
He handed her his card. “Call if you get hungry and want to join us.”
“Thank you,” she said, more than a little flattered.
He took her hand and held it a microsecond longer than necessary. Sun let him, then ended up cursing herself after they’d gone. She hadn’t dated in over two years. Bad breakup. Apparently, she has commitment issues. Either way, now was certainly not the time to try to resuscitate her love life.
“So,” Quincy said from behind her, catching her ogling the deputy marshal, “he seems nice.”
“Shut up.”
Just as Sun sat at her desk, the same desk she had yet to organize, Anita walked in, her lids wide and her face pale. In her gloved hands was an envelope. A pink one.
“Anita?” Sun said, standing.
The look on her face convinced Quincy to rush to her, but he stopped when he looked at the envelope. “It’s addressed to you.”
“It’s from her,” Anita said, moving her fingers so Sun and Quincy could see the return address. “It’s from Sybil St. Aubin.”
The deputies in residence gathered around her desk as Sun carefully pried open the envelope with gloved hands and a letter opener. According to the postmark, it had been mailed the day before. The handwritten address, with its neat script and rounded letters, suggested it was indeed from a girl. A young girl.
She slid the opener under the flap, cut along the top, and lifted the parchment out.
Quincy slipped the envelope into an evidence bag and sealed it for processing.
Sun unfolded the letter and scanned it. Then she scanned it again before reading it aloud. But only after a quick, confused glance at Quince.
“It’s dated two days ago. Postmarked yesterday,” she said.
Quincy angled for a better view. “So, she wrote it Sunday but couldn’t mail it until Monday?”
“Possibly. It’s addressed to me in care of the station, and it just happens to arrive on my first day?”
“She met your daughter,” Zee said. “She probably knows who you are.”
“True, but it gets stranger,” Sun promised, and began reading. “Dear Sheriff Vicram, by the time you get this letter, I will be gone, but I’m not dead. Not yet.”
She spared a quick glance at Quincy. His face was tightly drawn in thought.
“You have three days to find me,” she continued. “If you don’t, it will be too late.”
“What the hell?” Quince said, his voice whisper soft.
Price straightened and stepped back as though not sure what to think. As though not wanting to be a party to such events. “Is this a joke?” he asked, just as confused as Sun.
“If it is,” Zee said, “it’s not a very funny one.”
“I agree.” Sun kept reading, trying to analyze the strokes of the writing at the same time. As the letter continued, the signs of stress increased. The writing became heavier, like the writer was pressing down harder and harder. And the points became sharper. “I know this is going to sound crazy. Not even my parents believe me, but when I was six years old, I had a premonition, for lack of a better word. It’s the only one I’ve ever had, but it was very vivid, and I knew the minute I had it, it was real.