“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“Who sent this?”
“We don’t know.”
“Have you called police?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They said there wasn’t enough to act on.”
“There’s a threat!”
“To someone named only as ‘his wife.’ No return address. No fingerprints they could use.”
I stared at the photograph.
My house.
My bedroom window visible upstairs.
Someone had stood across the street watching me.
“When did Emily find out?”
“Three weeks ago.”
I lifted the phone.
“You knew someone threatened me and you said nothing?”
“I was trying to verify it first.”
“You should have told me!”
“I know.”
“You all keep saying you know!”
My voice cracked.
“None of you know what it feels like to realize every person you trusted decided you were too fragile for the truth.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Daniel said softly, “You’re right.”
I looked at him.
His expression held no defensiveness now.
Only regret.
“I shouldn’t have approached you the way I did.”
