Krystal’s POV
The morning was morningier instead of stiffer than normal, although it was June. Smack at my bare arm a wind came in through the window I had forgotten to close, like a warning.
I was early up. Colt was already in black slacks and a fitted shirt, with rolled sleeves and gazed at his laptop. There was a cup of untasted coffee on the table with him. I did not say a word. A man, with the extreme intention of his ear, was perusing something which seemed to give an air of tension all about him.
Another message, he said, at last looking up. “Same paper. Same handwriting. This I received under the door down stairs.”
I came nearer. And he gave it silently to me.
You are too comfortable. Sleep away to survive."
No address was returned. None, of course, no fingerprints. Nothing m
