The Darkest Corner (Gravediggers #1)(105)

Her stomach rumbled again and she bounded down the stairs, making a stop at the laundry room and dumping the clothes in the washer. She hummed as she measured the soap and turned on the hot water, and then she added a little extra soap just to be safe.

The pile of mail on the entryway table caught her attention and she scooped it up, taking it with her to the kitchen. Unlike her friend Tess, Miller used her kitchen for actual cooking, so everything about it was functional, from the hidden cabinets where she kept her small appliances, to the wine refrigerator in the big butcher-block island, and the pot filler over the stove.

She dumped the mail on the island and then opened the refrigerator. A bottle of ketchup and a cold pack she sometimes used on her eyes were the only things on the shelves. It'd been a while since she'd had a real meal, and even longer since she'd been to the grocery store.

She closed the refrigerator door and saw the note beneath the magnet in Julia's handwriting.

You need everything. This is no way for a grown woman to live. You'll get scurvy. Make me a list and I'll get what you need when I come on Tuesday.

"I could be dead of starvation by Tuesday," she said.

At least she didn't have to go to the grocery store. The only things worse than going to the grocery store were visiting the gynecologist or getting bad book reviews.

She went through the mail quickly, discarding most of it as junk. Then she turned to the package. It was a plain brown box, no bigger than the length of her hand, from her wrist to the tip of her fingers, and just as wide. There were several layers of brown tape around the box, so she grabbed a knife from the block on the counter.

Her name was written in neat block letters and a PO box was given as the return address, but there was no name at the top. She slid the knife under the layers of tape and lifted the flaps. A small envelope lay on top, and she recognized her brother's handwriting immediately. He'd been sending her letters just like this one from the time he'd left home. He'd never trusted email. But he'd also never sent her a package before. Her days of collecting the trinkets of Solomon and Sheba had ended when her parents had died.

She pulled out the envelope and set it on the counter, and then emptied out the rest of the contents of the box. Something weighty and wrapped in tissue paper fell into her hand, but it was the clank of metal hitting the counter that grabbed her attention.

She picked up the heavy ring with the large purple stone. Within the stone was the carved insignia of the king she'd been told stories about her whole life. King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba had been her family's obsession.

And despite her resentment of the tales and adventures that had broken her small family, the obsession had become hers. Because now she was writing their story, hoping that putting it on the page once and for all would finally give her freedom.

It was her brother's ring, given to him by her father, as it had been given to him by his father. There was nothing in this world that would've made Justin send her his ring. It had been passed down from father to son for more generations than she could count. And if Justin never had a son it would go to her son, though she had no plans of having children. The ring was priceless. And it was always to be worn by the living male heir. Which meant for Justin to not be wearing it was more awful than she could imagine.

Cold fear clutched at her belly and her hands shook as she took the tissue paper in her hand and slowly unwrapped it. When she got to the contents inside, her mind couldn't process what she was looking at.