“Are you home?” he pressed.
“Yeah,” I told him between deep breaths. “I’m in my bathroom.”
“Is someone in the house?”
“I don’t think so,” I told him.
“Listen, I’m going to hang up and I want you to call 911.”
I pictured cops showing up at the house and me handing over the threatening letter, followed by a lecture on wasting their time.
“It was a letter,” I informed my dad.
“A letter?” he asked, his voice steadier. “I’m turning onto our street now.”
“Um, yeah, a letter from someone who wants to hurt me.”
My dad exhaled loudly into his phone. “Damn, Gianna, you scared the crap out of me.”
Yep, a super crappy day, like top ten list.
“Do you still want me to call the police?” I asked.
“I’m pulling into the garage. Just in case, I’ll come up to get you.”
“Okay,” I said in a small voice, feeling incredibly stupid.
“Caleb just pulled up in front of the house,” my dad said.
My boyfriend, who may have fit a mini relationship into the two weeks we were broken up. “I think I just missed a text from him.”
“Gianna, I need to see the letter and then we’ll file a report at the police station.” We’d probably have to Google for the location. Then again, maybe Caleb already knew where it was.
“Letters,” I told my dad, unlocking the bathroom door and peeking out before going to lean against my bedroom door. “This is the second one.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“If you are meant to be together forever, you will survive any obstacle or trouble that comes to you.”
-Unknown
CALEB
Chris Thorpe’s face was tight with displeasure when he opened the front door. “Caleb,” he greeted curtly and moved out of the doorway.
“Hey,” I said cautiously, edging past him to get to my girl where she stood in the foyer with her phone gripped in one hand.
She didn’t look any happier to see me. In fact, the blue fire in her eyes told me she was pissed at me. But there was something else there, worry, maybe fear.
My eyes darted between Gianna and her dad. “What’s up?”
Her dad shut the front door, locking it. “I just got home, but Gianna and I are leaving to visit the police station.”
All trace of anger left her expression, leaving only the fear and worry. Alarm creeping in, I approached my girlfriend. “Why are you going to the cops?”
“Where is it, Gianna?” her dad asked abruptly.
“Living room,” she said softly, leaning into my side on an exhale.
As Chris went into the living room, I guided her with an arm around her waist to follow. “What’s he talking about, Gianna?”
She pulled away, sitting on the end of the couch as her dad stared down at a piece of notebook paper. Avoiding my eyes, she explained, “It’s a threatening letter, to me.”
Taking several steps, I gestured for her dad to hand it to me. The words were fire and ice in my veins. Anger burned, but a chill went through me at the thought of someone wanting to hurt her.
Ha! ha! Got you, bitch. Can’t wait to fuck you up.
Who the hell would send this?
“You said there was another letter,” Chris said. “Where is it?”
Gianna nervously ran a hand down the front of her skirt. “Upstairs in my desk.”
“Go get it,” he ordered. Her lips trembled and I started toward her, but she got up and threw herself into her dad’s arms. “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing her back.
“I’ll go get it,” I said, annoyed she hadn’t run to me instead. Her dad gave me a strange look over her head. It wasn’t until I was halfway up the stairs I realized he wouldn’t like the idea of me in her bedroom for any reason.
Her dainty desk had a set of drawers on one side. She was organized, having a tray in the top drawer for her stationary crap. I opened the bottom drawer, finding a blue envelope at the top of a pile of letters. Picking it up, I pulled out the greeting card and read the handwritten note. Inside the Get Well Soon card was written, Because I’m going to cut you up, whore.
Someone was obviously eager to die. Josh’s name came to mind, but he was locked up and with the restraining order, his mail out of the high-risk youth corrections facility was monitored.
I was about to push the drawer closed when I saw the pile of letters tied together with a light green ribbon. Thumbing the edges of them, I confirmed they were all from me. Underneath was another pile tied with the same color ribbon. Damn, I probably wouldn’t write this many letters total for the rest of my life. Often, I wouldn’t wait for her to respond before I’d mail another one.