“OK, Bill.” Mandy made tuna salad and spread it on rye. She gave Bill two sandwiches, and they ate at the kitchen island in silence. When was the last time she’d enjoyed time with her brother? But the strange things on the back porch and the police lieutenant’s imminent arrival intruded on their companionship. Mandy’s appetite dimmed. She put her sandwich on her plate. “Stay right here, all right?”

Chewing, Bill nodded. Mandy walked through the house and out the front door. The mailbox sat at the end of the brick walk. White with a black flag to mirror the house’s colors and some daffodils peeking through the dirt around its whitewashed post, it was quaint, innocuous. But Mandy knew with complete certainty it held something dangerous. Call it premonition, women’s intuition, or survival instinct, sometimes one just knew trouble was waiting. There was no avoiding it, though.

She scanned the street. Empty in both directions. No one skulking behind the shrubs. She shoved her shaking hands into her front pockets as she went down the steps. In the flower beds that lined the front walk, more tiny green heads of spring bulbs, hyacinths here, poked through the soil. The mailbox opened with a creak. Mandy pulled out a stack of letters. Her eye fell on a familiar white envelope. No return address. No stamp. Her name printed neatly in the center.

She ripped it open and pulled out an eight-by-ten glossy. Bill and Danny standing over the lawn mower in the backyard. Mandy held the photo up. Light came though cuts in the image. Someone had cut the picture right across her brother’s neck, decapitating his image. Fear curled in Mandy’s belly. Bold red print spelled out the new message on Bill’s chest.

DON’T FORGET.

Danny parked behind the inn. He glanced at the back of the house. He was contemplating whether to knock on the back door or go around to the front. Just where did he stand with Mandy? Bill waved through the kitchen window, then opened the door.

Danny walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Bill. What’s going on?”

“Dunno.” Bill shoved his hand into a bag of potato chips. “Mandy’s upset about something.”

Guilt sandbagged Danny. Was she worried about him? He should have called to let her know he was fine.

The door opened. Mandy came through. “Bill, would you—” Spying Danny, she stopped short. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“It’s all right. You didn’t make any promises.” But she kept her distance, moving to the counter to clean up some dirty dishes. “Bill, would you check on Mom?”

“Sure, Mandy.” Bill tucked a bag of chips under his arm. “Maybe she’ll watch Star Wars with me.”

Mandy smiled, but her eyes were sad. She glanced at the bandage on Danny’s hand. “How’s your cut?”

“Fine. Just a few stitches.”