Page 3 of Chalk Outline

Someone did it for me.

My heart refuses to acknowledge what my head keeps preaching to me daily, with no end—he is d… gone.

At first, I thought the random gifts on my porch were Grandma’s wicked sense of humor because she joked about it before I even brought it to her attention. But… this has escalated quickly, and now we’re in a different league.

I slam the lid back on the box and lift it with me as I run to my car. Titan jumps in the back. I drop the box into the passenger seat and drive my key into the ignition to start it.

A blood-curdling scream erupts from the music player that has me gasping.

I shoot my hand up and turn it off.

The pulse in my neck beats violently as I back out of the driveway and drive up the street to Grandma’s mansion.

I wave to the guards at the entrance, and as soon as they open the electric gate, I round the C-shaped paved driveway in front of her extensive three-story mansion and put the car in park.

Titan bursts out, eager to stroll around the property and greet everyone.

The burbling sound of the fountain in the center follows me as I grab the box and dash up the porch steps straight inside. Bursting into her office at the center of the main floor, I pant, slamming the present from hell on her desk.

“Oh, please, come in,” she says playfully, gesturing with her hand. “Always making a dramatic entrance. You had a knack for it since you were a kid.” She nods to her guard to close the door behind me.

The room smells like old books, notes of vanilla, and strong coffee. Nostalgic.

“This is serious,” I urge in a stern tone.

She gives the box a quick glance. “Is it from your secret admirer?” she teases in a mischievous tone. To save time, I open the box, and she looks at it, quite impressed. Not the reaction I was hoping for, but the one I expected. “Now, that’s a present.”

“This is bad.”

Cocking her head slightly, she brings her finger to her thin crimson lips. “That’s romantic. Call it poetic, if you will.”

I seriously want to question her judgment right now, but it’s pointless. I know who she is, and that’s part of her world—the same one she tried to shield me from my entire life.

“I’ve seen worse. Besides, you’re the one who likes morbid tales.” She completely dismisses the situation. “Don’t let it ruffle your feathers, Darling.”

I may be startled by the look, but it’s not my first time seeing the body parts or organs of a dead person.

“This is concerning if it has to do with the Halloween Killers. What if it’s a sign? What if they’re coming after me? What if they’re already here?”

“That’s a lot of what-ifs. But what if you’re jumping to conclusions too fast?”

“Why areyouso nonchalant about it?“ I lower my chin and arch my eyebrows at her. “This made it all the way to my front door despite having troops of guards all over the street.”

“I guess I have to fire someone,” she jokes, and that’s an occasion I don’t see too often, if ever.

“Really? Are you on something?”

“Oh, please, can’t I laugh with you? The world is getting too serious.”

Why so serious?The well-known quote instantly pops into my mind, and I almost laugh at how absurd it sounds.

“The guards don’t open boxes because they’re private. And if there’s a bomb, I highly doubt someone will ship it via mail. So, sometimes we get disturbing things like this. I’ve had my fair share, believe me.”

But who can do this if her identity and location are kept secret?

She knows something but is keeping it to herself, and spreading lies is her native language. It’s part of her job.

“I came here for the prison job.” I declare, dropping the box beside the foot of the desk.