The mail clerk rolled his cart to a stop outside the office bearing the name of Special Agent Parker Rollins. Per official Bureau procedures and policies, each letter had been opened and screened for hazardous material. Per the same policies, the contents of each envelope were stapled to their packaging, anything found loose taped to a separate piece of paper.
On top of the stack the clerk carried into the office was a battered, travel-worn envelope.
It hadn’t arrived carrying much. There had been only two items inside, both of which were now stapled to the packaging. On top was a single sheet of legal paper with a brief handwritten note. Beneath that, a small key was taped to a blank piece of paper.
There were coffee stains and smudges of dirt on the once pristine white envelope, and the corners had begun to tear. The letter itself appeared mostly untouched.
“Morning, sir!” the young clerk chirped as he strolled into the office.
“Hello, Daniel.” Parker smiled absently. “How did that chemistry test go?”
“I passed. Barely,” Daniel said as he handed over the mail. Parker flipped the legal sheet and the second blank page where the key was taped, checking the return address. “But I don’t think many people got higher scores, so I don’t feel too bad. I think next time I’ll—”
Eyes wide and white against his dark skin, Parker dropped everything else to his desk.
“Sir? Agent Rollins, are you okay?”
“Daniel, I need you to do me a very important favor.” Parker spoke without taking his eyes off the envelope, and he kept his voice quiet enough that Daniel had to lean in to hear.
“Of course, sir.” The young man looked confused, but he kept his voice just as low.
Parker looked up then, holding Daniel’s gaze. “I need you to find Kylie Drusus on the third floor and ask her to come see me as soon as possible. But you can’t call her, and I don’t want you to tell anyone else that you’re sending her to see me. Can you do that?”
“Yes. Definitely. Is . . .” He swallowed, shifting nervously and casting a glance at the open door before leaning closer and whispering, “Is everything okay, sir?”
“I don’t know. I hope so, but this—” Parker snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “As soon as possible, Daniel. Please.”
Nodding, Daniel rolled his mail cart into Parker’s office, placing it along the wall near the door. “I’ll be back to collect this as soon as I’m done.”
“Of course.” Parker’s attention was back on the papers.
He carefully removed the staple from the top right corner of the envelope. Moving with deliberate slowness, he looked at the front again, running his fingertips over the return address in the corner: Matthew Nevarez.
“Letters from the dead,” Parker muttered.
He took a long, slow breath and switched his attention to the contents. He traced the edges of the small brass key with his thumb, but his eyes were on the note.
If I’m going down, I intend to take them with me.
Gracelyn Bedford
Mutual Liberty Bank and Trust, Atlanta
129 36
“Jesus Christ, Matthew.” Parker let the paper fall to his desk. “What the fuck did you do now?”