All the Little Liars by Charlaine Harris

Author:Charlaine Harris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Chapter Eleven

At some point during the night, after I got back from the visitation, someone left an anonymous letter under the windshield wiper of my car. Getting an anonymous letter is not a pleasant experience.

My father was gone when Robin and I got up the next morning. Apparently, he’d called a cab and crept out of the house in the early hours of the morning, and that meant he’d left the front door unlocked. At least our nameless visitor had not tried the door handle and visited us in our sleep.

Robin was holding the letter between his thumb and forefinger as though it were a dead mouse when he came back in the house with the newspaper. He’d gone out to move his car into the carport because it was supposed to rain, and also to make sure my father had left it in good order.

“Look,” Robin said. He laid the piece of paper on the kitchen counter. I was still in my fuzzy bathrobe, trying to keep down a piece of toast and some cranberry juice.

I leaned over the sheet of white computer paper. It had crinkled in the damp air and felt moist to the touch. But the typed words were still legible.

They are still alive. Find them.

My first reaction was profane. “Why the hell didn’t this person just tell us where they are?” I said. “This is useless!”

“I guess we’d better call the police,” Robin said glumly, and soon he was talking to Detective Trumble. She came over right away; she didn’t blink at me being still in my robe and nightgown. She’d brought a plastic sleeve for the paper, which she gently waved in the air with tongs so it would be dry when she inserted it.

“Interesting,” she said. “Either a really nasty person is jerking you around, or someone connected to the disappearance has a big sense of guilt and responsibility.”

“I wish that sense had been a little more helpful and specific,” I said.

“Me, too.” She looked at the message as if she hoped to find invisible writing below the typeface.

“Maybe whoever wrote it will crack under the strain and confess,” Robin said. He was determined to be upbeat.

“That would be wonderful.” I sighed. “But I’m not going to count on it.”

“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” the detective said. “If you had a good idea who had put this on your car?”

“I sure wasn’t looking out my window,” I said. Though I did have a suspicion. But that wasn’t solid enough to tell Cathy Trumble.

“Aurora, when did your dad come into town?” Cathy Trumble asked casually.

It felt like forever ago. “Ah … three days ago?” I said.

“Is he still here? I mean, in your house?”

“No. We had some words last night, after which I told him to leave. Why?”

“Did you know that he’s in trouble in California?” Trumble said.

Stunned, Robin and I gave each other a wide-eyed look. He shook his head, and I shook mine. Neither of us had heard that. “No,” I said. “Please tell me about this.

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