Dear Irene by Jan Burke Read Free Book Online Page A

coffee, logged on to my computer, checked my calendar. Told myself to get it over with, picked up the stack, shuffled them, counted them. Thirteen. Thirteen? Better check the count, I thought, then became so angry with myself that I ripped the first one open. A coupon for a discount on carpet cleaning. I was more careful in handling the others, but that coupon turned out to be the most spectacular item in the group. So much for my frightening mail.
    I went to work on a story that would run near New Year’s Day, our annual standard story on new laws and programs going into effect January 1. Said, “Yes, it’s great to have the cast off,” to at least two dozen well-wishers.
    I ate lunch in the building, telling myself I stayed in because I was so busy, not because of the phone calls. I kept distracted by my work and coworkers for the rest of the afternoon. It was dark when I left the building, but as I stepped out the door and glanced toward my car, I came to a halt.
    My parking lights were on.
    For a brief moment, I was simply confused by it. Had I turned the parking lights on? No, I was certain I hadn’t.
    The next thought:
Two phone calls.
    Lydia came out the door and said cheerfully, “It must be great to be able to drive again.”
    “Walk me to my car, would you, Lydia?”
    She followed my gaze and said, “Uh-oh. Worried about your battery? No problem. I’ve got jumper cables in my car. Why did you turn your lights on this morning?”
    “I didn’t.”
    “Then how—”
    “He’s trying to scare me.”
    “Who? Who’s trying to scare you?”
    I hesitated. Lydia had been dealing with my unfounded fears on a daily basis.
Thanatos
suddenly seemed like a crazy answer to her question. I forced a smile. “No one, no one. Sorry. I was just thinking about something else. I don’t know why I turned the lights on. Haven’t driven for a while, so I guess I was out of practice.”
    “With the Karmann Ghia?” she asked. “You’ve driven it since college.” She was watching me carefully now, giving me the same look she might have given a strange dog that came trotting toward her, wagging its tail and growling at the same time.
    By then we had reached the car. There was no one lurking in the small interior. The doors were locked. The windows were up. No visible damage to the ragtop. I tried not to shake as I opened the door and got inside.
    The car started right up.
    Lydia smiled.
    “I guess I won’t be needing those jumper cables,” I said. “Thanks for waiting.”
    “Any time.” She started to walk off, then turned back. “Are you all right?”
    I don’t know,
I wanted to answer. But I nodded and waved, then drove off.
    As I drove, I tried to tell myself that maybe I
did
accidentally turn them on. I looked at the switch for the lights. No. Not something anyone would do “accidentally.” And not something I did and then forgot. It had been a sunny morning. If it had been foggy or dark, I would have turned the headlights on, not the parking lights — in California, it’s illegal to drive around with only your parking lights on. And I would have noticed that the parking lights were on when I pulled the top back up.
    At home, I debated with myself about telling Frank about the lights. He had so much on his mind — did he need this? But what if Thanatos
had
been near my car?
    The issue was decided for me when Frank came in the front door.
    “What a day,” he said. “Okay if I go for a run before dinner? I need to do something to get my mind off lunatics and assholes.”
    Not wanting to fall into either category, I told him dinner could wait and stayed silent on the subject of parking lights.
    On Tuesday, Kevin called to say he had searched his files but hadn’t found anyone that he could connect to the Thanatos letter. The people I had worked for had no strong ties to the college or the zoo, even if some of them belonged in the latter.
    I pestered Mark Baker into giving me the phone numbers for the