Now, seven years later, here they were.
McKenna shoved her reminiscences aside. It would be better to use the time she had to go over the case.
As she walked by the kitchen table, she glanced at the spot where she’d first spotted the threatening note. It was still there. She kept walking and then stopped in her tracks, walking backward as she blinked quickly, in case her eyes had deceived her. Hadn’t she moved it?
No, a paper was there. But it wasn’t the note that she’d found in the early hours of the morning. This one was new.
He’d been in her house. Again.
You chose not to listen. Suit yourself. I may have missed this time, but next time will be a different story.
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