Chapter 2 - The Envelope in the Lining
The world stopped spinning. The hum of the diner's refrigerator, the clatter of silverware from the kitchen, the drone of the morning radio—all of it faded into a distant, muffled hum.
Alexander stared at her, his pulse roaring in his ears. Clare Vance. Not a coincidence. Not a ghost conjured by his guilt. This was flesh and blood. This was his past sitting right in front of him, eating maple-soaked pancakes with trembling fingers.
"Clare..." Alexander whispered, the name tasting like ash and old regret. "Is she... where is she, Aura?"
Aura stopped chewing. The brief light of satisfaction from the food vanished from her face, replaced by a wall of impenetrable grief. She swallowed hard, staring down at her plate. "She died three weeks ago. In a hospital in Portland. They didn't want me there, so I ran away. I came here because... because she told me to."
"She told you to come to Seattle?" Alexander leaned closer, his chest tightening. "Why?"
Aura reached into the deep pocket of Alexander's cashmere coat—the very coat he had draped over her shoulders at the bus stop. Her small fingers fumbled for a moment before pulling out a battered, waterproof envelope sealed with yellowed tape. She laid it flat on the table, pushing it across the sticky laminate toward him.
The handwriting on the front was unmistakable. Slanted, sharp, elegant.
To Alexander Sterling. Open only if you find her.
Alexander's hands shook as he picked up the envelope. The paper was worn, handled a thousand times by desperate hands. He slipped his thumb under the flap, his breath caught in his throat, and pulled out the folded sheets of paper inside.
Before he could unfold them, the diner door chimed behind him.
May you like
A cold gust of wind swept in, carrying the scent of ozone and wet pavement. Two men in dark trench coats stepped inside, their eyes scanning the room with chilling efficiency. They weren't customers. They were looking for someone.
And their eyes locked instantly on the corner booth.
