Anonymous. Dani-Lyn Alexander

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       Chapter Three

      Fear clawed its way up her throat as she reached for the envelope. She wasn’t supposed to open it, but she had to be sure it was from him. At least, she assumed it was a man sending her the death threats. Her hands shook as she pushed the other mail aside in an effort to see the plain, gray envelope. There were no markings, no return address, just her name and address printed in neat block letters in the center of the envelope. The same neat block lettering that had adorned the first three.

      Her hands shook so badly, it took three attempts before she was able to dial Detective Sturgis’ number.

      “Hello?”

      “Ron. It’s me, Ali. I got another one.”

      He gave a sharp intake of breath, and a curse followed, as she pulled the afghan from the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her teeth chattered more from fear than cold. She couldn’t sit still, had to keep moving, so she paced back and forth through the apartment. Was he out there? Thankful for the rain probably blocking any view into her apartment, she still avoided the windows.

      “I’ll be right there. Don’t touch anything. Stay inside and lock the doors.”

      Ali took her first full breath since she’d spotted the envelope. Ron lived about five minutes away. Past experience had taught her he’d look around outside before he came in, but just knowing he was out there comforted her.

      Even though she’d been expecting it, the knock on the door still startled her.

      “Ali, it’s me.” Ron’s familiar voice propelled her into action.

      She opened the door.

      “Are you OK?” The older man pulled her into his arms. “It’ll be all right. We’ll find him.” He held her at arm’s length, studying her.

      “I’m fine. Thanks for coming, Ron.” The pounding of her heart nearly drowned out his response.

      “Ali?” His eyebrows drew together, his concern for her obvious in his expression.

      “I’m sorry, Ron. I didn’t hear you.” Ali tried to pull herself together, to concentrate on what he was saying. The last thing she needed was for him to tell Mark she’d fallen apart.

      “I said, did you touch anything?”

      “No, well, maybe the envelope when I took it from the mailbox. I wasn’t paying attention.” She had originally dismissed the first threat, but since the second envelope had come in, she’d experienced anxiety every time she opened the mailbox. Today, however, she’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Mark, his Barbie doll girlfriend and self-pity, she hadn’t even thought about it.