Page 43 of Enigma (Pros and Cons Mysteries #6)

O live turned the envelope over in her hands, studying every detail.

The paper was cream-colored and expensive-looking. Her name was written in black ink with what looked like a fountain pen. The script was neat, feminine, and cursive.

“Do you recognize the handwriting?” Jason stepped close enough that she could feel his body heat.

Olive frowned and traced the letters with her fingertip. “I’m not sure. Maybe. It looks familiar, but I can’t place it.”

She carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of matching paper. The same elegant handwriting covered the page in neat lines.

Olive read aloud.

Olive,

You need to stay out of this. Nothing good will happen by continuing your investigation. You’re putting your life on the line for no reason, chasing answers that will only bring you pain.

The past is buried for a reason. Some truths are too dangerous to uncover, and some secrets are kept in order to protect the people we love.

Walk away. Go back to your life in Indiana. Find happiness with someone who can give you the future you deserve.

I’m glad you didn’t die that night. You were spared—for a reason. Now keep yourself safe.

~Someone who cares about you

Olive’s hands shook as she finished reading. She stared at the words, her mind racing.

“Do you think . . .” Jason’s voice was gentle. “Do you think your mother wrote this?”

“I don’t know.” Olive’s voice was barely above a whisper. “The handwriting looks like it could be hers, but it’s been eight years. People’s handwriting can change.”

“Who else would say something like this?”

Olive folded the letter carefully, her thoughts churning as she shook her head. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“The person who wrote this cares about you,” Jason pointed out. “It sounds like she’s trying to protect you.”

“Or she’s trying to scare me off because I’m getting too close to the truth.” Olive shook her head again, feeling an ache begin to form at her temples. “If my mom is alive, I can’t believe she’d let me think she was dead for eight years just to protect me. No mother would do that to her child.”

Jason’s eyes softened. “Unless she thought it was the only way to keep you alive.”

Olive couldn’t argue with his statement—yet she didn’t want to acknowledge that either.

Olive glanced at her childhood home again, trying to reconcile the woman who had taught her to arrange flowers and make homemade bread and fix her hair with someone capable of such elaborate deception.

“If this is from her, then she’s been watching me,” Olive finally said. “She knows about my investigation, knows I’m in Texas. She might even know about you, about us.”

Jason frowned before saying, “Which means we need to be even more careful. Because if your mother is Sarah Mitchell, then we’re caught in the middle of something much bigger than we realized.”

As they started back down the stairs, Olive clutched the letter in her hands, wondering if she’d just received a warning from a loving mother or a threat from a dangerous criminal.

Jason pulled away from the curb, checking his mirrors as he did so.

Olive checked her mirror also.

The neighborhood was quiet—a few kids riding bikes in the distance, an elderly man walking his dog.

It was hard for her to believe she’d lived here at one time. That she’d been happy. That her family—though imperfect—had felt whole.

She didn’t often stop to think about how her past had shaped her into who she was today, but it had. She’d felt so alone. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she kept people at arm’s distance.

Maybe part of her feared ever getting close to someone again.

But she intimately knew what loss felt like, and she never wanted to experience that kind of hurt again.

As the thoughts churned in her head, she felt something shift in the air.

She glanced around but saw nothing that had triggered her instincts.

But something felt wrong.

“Jason?” she asked.

“We’ve got company.” He fixed his eyes on the rearview mirror.

Olive turned to look through the back window.

A dark sedan had fallen into line behind them, maintaining a careful distance but matching their speed.

Jason took a right turn onto a residential street.

The sedan followed.

“Maybe it’s just someone heading in the same direction as us,” Olive murmured, unconvinced of her own words.

Jason made another turn, this time a left onto a street that led away from the main part of town.

The sedan stayed with them.

“Definitely not a coincidence,” he muttered.

The residential streets gave way to rural highway, and Jason pressed harder on the accelerator.

The Tahoe responded with a surge of power, but the sedan easily kept pace.

“They’re not trying to hide it now,” Olive observed as the sedan closed the distance between them.

Through the rear window, she saw two figures in the front seat of the pursuing car. But the distance and glare made it impossible to identify them.

“You have a gun?” Jason asked, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Sure do, thanks to Elena.” Olive pulled the weapon from her waistband.

She checked the clip—fully loaded.

“What’s the plan?” She glanced at Jason, her muscles hardening with resolve.

“Depends on what they want.” Jason’s voice sounded as tight as his jaw looked. “If they just want to follow us, we’ll try to lose them. If they want to play rough?—”

The sedan suddenly accelerated, closing the gap between them to just a few feet.

Then the car swung into the left lane and pulled alongside the Tahoe.

That answered Jason’s question.

These guys clearly wanted to play rough.

The sedan paced them for several seconds.

Olive tensed as she watched them, still gripping her gun.

She saw the passenger—a man in dark clothing with his face obscured by sunglasses. She couldn’t make out enough details to identify him.

A second later, the sedan swerved hard to the right.

Olive knew exactly what the driver was doing.

He was trying to force her and Jason off the road.