Like I said, Blake was several steps ahead of me. He shook his head, his eyes slowly closing and then opening again. They remained clear as a mountain stream.

“No, you’re going to get the letters back, Ryan,” he said. “You’re going to go into her house and bring them back to me.”

CHAPTER SIX

I felt my eyes widen. If anyone in the coffee shop had been looking at me, they would have thought I was joking around, making some kind of ridiculous face, the kind of thing I did to entertain Henry at home.

But the emotion was real and genuine. What Blake was saying sounded completely and utterly nuts.

“You want me to go talk to this woman on your behalf? Why? She doesn’t know me—”

But he shook his head. “You’re not going to talk to her, Ryan. It’s past the time for talking. You’re going to go into her house and take the letters. And you’re going to bring them to me so Sam never has to see them. I didn’t say anything about talking to her.”

It seemed as though the music, which had been playing softly over our heads, dropped to an even lower volume. And across the room someone broke out laughing, a sharp, mocking sound that caused me to look their way and then back to Blake.

“You’re crazy,” I said, shaking my head. “Seriously. I have to get home. I can’t believe you dragged me over here for this bullshit.”

Blake acted as though he hadn’t heard me.

“It’s simple,” he said. “Tonight at ten o’clock. She’ll be out. She always is on Thursdays. I know the door code. I know where the letters are. She has a keepsake drawer in her bedroom. The letters were there the last time I was in the house. That was a few weeks ago. They’ve always been in there. I should have taken them, but it would be too obvious. You just go over, go in, and get them. Easy as pie.”

“You want me to break into a complete stranger’s house?”

“Not break in, Ryan.” Now he shook his head at me. “I said I know the code. At least, I think I do. Unless she’s changed it.” He scratched his chin distractedly for a moment. “But you just go in. No breaking in. No busting down doors. Nothing like that. And you’re not stealing her TV or her computer. Just taking the letters I wrote. They’re my property, really. They’re my words.”

“If you go into someone’s home without permission, it’s breaking in. Even if you know the door code. The cops won’t make that distinction. Besides, maybe she’s scanned or copied the letters already. It could all be for nothing.”

“I can’t take any chances.”