I looked at the envelope. It was a padded mailer, stapled at one end, with a pul -tab on the back for easy opening. My name appeared in red Magic Marker

I stared at the letters, an alarm sounding deep in my brain. Who knew I would be on the island tonight? Who could have recognized my car? Had we been fol owed? Watched?

Gingerly I prodded the contents. I could feel the bulge of something hard.

"Wel !"

I jumped at the sound of Kit's voice. When I turned his face looked eerily pale, his features dark and distorted in the faint yel ow light seeping from the lobby doors.

"Goddammit, Kit, this could be -- " I stopped, unsure where the thought was going.

"Could be what?" Kit leaned sideways and draped his arm over the back of the seat. "Go on. Open it," he needled. "I'l bet it's a prank. One of your cop friends probably spotted the car and left something stupid to creep you out."

That was possible. Anyone on the job could have run the plate. And I had been the butt of jokes in the past.

"Go on." Kit reached up and turned on the interior light. "Maybe it's tickets to the Expos."

I pul ed the tab and reached into the mailer My fingers closed around a smal , glass jar When I withdrew the container and held it up to the light I felt bile rise in my throat. The rhythmic contractions under my tongue told me I was about to be sick. I barely heard Kit as I lunged for the door handle.

"Holy shit, Aunt Tempe. Who did you piss off?"

Chapter 15

The eyebal rested on the bottom of the jar, pupil up, tendrils of flesh floating in the cloudy liquid. The organ was blanched and partial y col apsed, and one side appeared to have a jagged tear. Though lightly sealed, the container gave off a familiar scent. A folded paper was stuck to its bottom.

Kit reached over and pul ed off the note.

"On te surveil e." The French sounded odd with his Texas drawl. "What does that mean, Aunt Tempe?"

"We're watching you."

With shaky hands I returned the jar and note to the mailer and placed it on the floor of the backseat. The smel of formaldehyde seemed overwhelming. I knew the odor was in my mind, but that did little to al ay my nausea. Fighting to bring my gag reflex back under control, I wiped damp palms on my pants and put the car in gear.

"Think it's a joke?" Kit asked as we turned onto boulevard Ile-des-Soeurs.

"I don't know." My voice sounded high-pitched.

Sensing my mood, he didn't press the point.

Once home, I wrapped the jar in a series of plastic sacks and sealed it in a Tupperware canister. Then I cleaned out the vegetable drawer and placed it in the refrigerator