Something like guilt began to inch up her spine. “I spilled something on it. What is this?”
“Curiosity.” Parker held out an envelope. “This was on the kitchen counter. Mrs. G gave it
to me to give to you.”
“Well, why didn’t she just ... Oh.” Laurel stopped when she recognized Del’s handwriting.
“Don’t you want to know what it says? I do.” Parker stood, blocking the way and smiling
brightly. “The polite thing would be for me to go back inside, give you privacy when you read
it. But, I’m just not that mature.”
“It’s nothing. Fine.” Feeling foolish, Laurel opened the envelope.
You might think this is over, but you’d be wrong. I’ve taken your shoes hostage. Contact me
within forty-eight hours, or the Pradas get it.
Laurel made a sound caught between a laugh and a curse as Parker read over her shoulder.
“He took your shoes?”
“Apparently. What am I supposed to do about this?” Laurel waved the note. “I’m drifting. I
decided I wanted to drift, and now he’s playing games. I just bought those shoes.”