Chapter 46: Elliot - The Foster Child

I take the cards into the kitchen and flick through them. A chill slithers down my spine when I see that one of the envelopes is addressed to Lee Brookes. I haven’t been called Lee for years, not since I was a teenager. I left that name behind when I walked away from my old life. Only Rocky and the rest of the gang knew me by that name. And it’s in the same black writing as the previous two cards.

Rocky is dead so this has to be from one of the gang. Is it one of them who murdered Rocky? Why? Were they working together to blackmail me and had argued?

I open the garage door and slip the card inside, on my workbench, Cora never goes in the garage, she always parks her car on the drive, then I go back into the kitchen, take a chilled bottle of wine out the fridge and put three glasses on the tray. I’m guessing Cora will want one too. I don’t put a glass for myself although, God knows, I could do with a drink. I need to keep a cool head. I’m glad Violet dropped by too, it’s nice for them all to have a catch-up. Lori looks pale and I don’t like that nasty-looking bruise on her cheek. If I find out that Jacob did it and I come across him again he’ll be sorry. I can’t stand bullies, especially men who hit women.

I’m pleased that Lori’s come for Christmas, although I get the impression she might not be in a rush to go back. Well, she can stay as long as she wants, especially if it keeps her away from Jacob. I want Cora to be happy and Christmas is for families. Or so I’m told. Family has never been big in my life but Cora’s drawing me into hers and I like it. It’s a good feeling to belong.

I envy her, having so many people who love her. She’s even managed to keep a decent relationship with her ex, Dale. I’ve never met him, but I think he was a fool to cheat on Cora. Women like her don’t come into your life often and I’m glad she came into mine. And I’m not going to lose her. I’ve got to find out who is sending these cards and make them stop. I’m not going to let anyone harm Cora. Or Lori. Because she’s in danger too while she’s here.

‘Here we are, help yourselves. I’ve got a couple of things to do so I’ll leave you all to chat.’

I go back into the garage, switch on the light and pick up the card from the workbench. I brace myself and take the card out of the envelope. My blood runs cold. It isn’t a Christmas card. It’s another condolence card, with R.I.P. written across the top.

I grit my teeth as I open it up.

TIME TO SAY YOUR PRAYERS.