A Whisper in the Dark by Linda Castillo Read Free Book Online

cops like donuts?”
    Smiling, he slid the book back into place without looking at it. When he turned back to her, his face was composed and as hard as a piece of granite. “I didn’t know what to say when your father approached me. I didn’t realize he hadn’t discussed this with you.”
    “He makes it difficult to say no sometimes.”
    “I was planning to turn him down until he mentioned the letters.” He shrugged. “Then I figured you might appreciate the help.”
    Julia couldn’t dispute that without sounding like an idiot. “I do. Thank you.”
    “How about this. I take a look at the letters. If I think they warrant your getting some personal protection in place, we’ll handle it. I’ll recommend a few security measures here at the shop and your apartment upstairs to appease your father, and we’re both off the proverbial hook. Fair enough?”
    She nodded, relieved that he was being so reasonable. She crossed to her desk and pulled out the manila folder where she kept the letters. “There have been six so far.”
    John crossed to her and took the folder. “Have you touched them? Handled them much?”
    “Just to open and read them.”
    “Has anyone else touched them?”
    “Claudia.”
    His eyes met hers, and Julia thought she saw the hint of a smile. “Last time I saw her she was all pigtails and freckles.”
    “She still has the freckles.” She smiled. “She’s going to Tulane now and works here part-time.”
    John set the folder on the desk and opened it. Taking the first letter by the corner with his thumb and forefinger, he read. The sins ye do by two and two ye must pay for one by one.
    He looked up, saw Julia watching him, biting her lip, and he wondered if she was more frightened by the letters than she was letting on.
    “It’s a quote from a book,” she said.
    “What book?”
    “It took me a while to figure it out.” He tried not to check out her calves when she walked halfway down the second aisle and paused to pull out a thick book with a tattered cover. “It’s Rudyard Kipling’s ‘Tomlinson.’” She carried it to the counter and began paging through it. “Right here.”
    He crossed to the counter. Silence reigned while they read the poem, then she turned her eyes on him.
    “What do you think?” she asked.
    “If you read it literally, it’s a threat.” He glanced at the other letters, picked the next one up by its corner and read.
    Her tainted pen spills sin onto the page/like fevered blood from a sickle slash./Soon thine blood will be hers/and vengeance will be mine.
    “I couldn’t find the author of that one.”
    “Not quite as subtle.”
    “I agree.”
    “Any idea what the reference to writing means?”
    When he glanced at Julia, her gaze skittered away. “I thought perhaps he was referring to one of the books I carry here at the shop.”
    “Maybe.” But not for the first time, John was getting an odd vibe from her, as if she weren’t quite being honest with him. Of course, that didn’t make any sense. Julia Wainwright wasn’t the kind of woman who kept secrets. And she had no reason to lie to him.
    Or did she?
    He turned his attention to the third letter. Death is here and death is there,/Death is busy everywhere,/All around, within, beneath,/Above is death—and we are death.
    “That one is from Shelley’s ‘Death,’” Julia said. “It’s old, 1820 or so.”
    “So this guy probably knows books. You tick off any of your competitors recently?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    He flipped the page to find that the next letter was even more chilling: The wages of sin is death.
    “It’s from the New Testament,” Julia put in.
    “Another reference to sin. To death. Threatening, considering its context. Same paper as the others. Same font. Looks like it’s off the same laser.” He looked up, his expression devoid of emotion. “Do you have any idea who might be sending these?”
    “I’ve racked my brain trying to come up with some logical culprit,