Page 17 of The Reaper
As I handed it back, Finn gave me a sideways glance.
“What was that about last night?”
I paused. “What do you mean?”
“The note.I’m coming for dinner.”
My heart thudded once. “You saw that?”
“Yeah, and I saw the way you didn’t mention it.”
I hesitated. Then: “It was just … there. No name. No number. No return address. Just one line.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
“You sure about that?”
I crossed my arms. “I told you. It didn’t say anything.”
Finn was quiet for a beat. Then he asked, “Can I see it?”
I nodded. “It’s in my office. On my desk.”
He tilted his head. “You don’t think it’s a threat?”
“No. If it were, I’d feel it.”
Finn studied me for a second longer, then looked back at the boats like they might offer a simpler truth. “What, then? Secret admirer? Fan letter?”
I shook my head. “Who would even write that? I’m not that charming.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “You’re charming when you’re not trying to flay someone with a glance.”
I snorted. “So, basically never.”
He tapped his clipboard against his thigh. “Could’ve been anyone, Meg. A diner who didn’t introduce themselves. A chef passing through town. Someone testing the waters.”
“A vendor trying to curry favor,” I added.
“Or a rival trying to psych you out.”
I raised a brow. “They’d have to know how.”
He laughed softly. “Fair point.”
The truth was—I didn’t know what the note meant. “I guess it could’ve been anything,” I said. “No way to know unless they show up again.”
“Unless they already have,” Finn offered.
I glanced sideways at him.
He grinned. “Just saying. The mystery man near the benches. The note. The timing. Could be connected.”
“Or coincidence.”
“Do you believe in coincidence?”
