Skye answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Jasmine! I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said.
“Merry Christmas. But you had me worried. Where are you?”
Jasmine could hear David in the background. It sounded as if he was standing right beside Skye, mumbling endearments as he kissed her neck. “In Mamou.”
“I really hope you’re not spending Christmas alone in a hotel room.”
“No, I’m at a…friend’s.”
The soft giggle that came across the phone had nothing to do with the conversation. “Dave, stop,” Skye said. He murmured something that sounded sexy and loving—intimate enough to make Jasmine envious of their relationship.
“You’ve already made a friend?” Skye asked, her attention returning to Jasmine.
“Well, he’s more of an acquaintance. Not really a friend.” Why she’d felt the need to add that, she didn’t know.
“He?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. He’s just someone involved in my investigation.”
“How old is he?”
“Thirty-five, thirty-six. Somewhere in there.”
“That’s close to your age.”
“And your point?”
“He must be a pretty nice guy to take you home for Christmas.”
He’d taken her to his bed, too. That didn’t make him Mr. Wonderful. But Jasmine saw no reason to reveal her own lack of good judgment. “He’s nice enough to include me in his family’s celebration. That’s it.”
“So he’s married?”
“I’m talking about his parents’ family. He’s a widower.”
There was a pause as if Skye was trying to read Jasmine’s tone. “Is there any spark between the two of you?” she finally asked.
“None,” Jasmine said but she had to smile. She’d probably never told a bigger lie. Romain was the only man who’d ever made her wonder if spontaneous combustion was actually possible. “Why do you ask?”
“The lack of detail’s a little suspicious. There’s something going on or you’d be more up-front about how you met him and how he’s connected to the investigation.”
“There’s nothing going on.”
Another pause. However, in the end, Skye seemed to buy it. “Disappointing, but for the best, I suppose,” she said. “Much as I’d love you to meet someone, I wouldn’t want you to move halfway across the country. I’d miss you too much. And we couldn’t manage The Last Stand without you.”
“I’m not going to meet anyone in the short time I’ll be here.”
“Did you like my gift?” Skye asked, changing the subject.
“I don’t know. I left it at home with Sheridan’s. I thought we could get together when I return, have dinner and a belated celebration.”
“Good idea. When will that be?”
Jasmine assumed David was momentarily distracted by something besides his wife, because Jasmine couldn’t hear him anymore. “Don’t know yet.”
“I wish you were here,” Skye said. “Christmas isn’t the same without you. It’s been just the two of us for the past five years.”
That sentiment brought a lump to Jasmine’s throat. “I wish I was there, too.”
“Did you get the money I sent you?”
“Not yet. I’ll pick it up when I’m back in New Orleans.”
“I take it the police haven’t found your purse.”
“No. At this point, I doubt they’ll recover it.”
“Odds are you’re right, but it’d be nice.”
Jasmine was about to ask if Skye had heard from Sheridan when a crumpled piece of paper in the wastebasket caught her eye. A double take confirmed that it had bold, red writing. Writing that made Jasmine shiver.
“Jasmine?”
Leaning over to reach it, Jasmine plucked it from the garbage. “I’ve got to go,”she mumbled.
“Already?”
Jasmine’s hand shook as she smoothed out the letter. It appeared to be written in blood, just like the note she’d received. Only this one said: JoKe iS On yOu.
That was it, but Jasmine discovered the accompanying envelope by digging through the rest of the trash. Like the package that’d come to her house, it’d been mailed from New Orleans but didn’t bear a return address. The addressee’s name, written in blue ink, had been traced over and over, which was also familiar.
“Mr. Romain Fornier,” she read.
“What’d you say?” Skye asked, but a noise made Jasmine whirl toward the entrance.
“I don’t think that’s addressed to you,” Tom said.
“Jasmine, answer me,” Skye was saying.
“I’ll have to call you back.” She hung up as Tom approached with his hand outstretched.
“May I?”
Jasmine wasn’t about to relinquish what she’d found. “No,” she said, putting it behind her back.
His eyebrows lifted toward the hair he’d gelled off his forehead. “You have a great deal of interest in my father-in-law’s mail—especially for someone who’s simply on vacation in Louisiana.” He smiled, but there was an undercurrent in his voice that made her uneasy. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”
Considering the letter, she decided to let him know the real reason for her trip.
“My sister went missing sixteen years ago. And because of a cryptic message a lot like this one, I’m here to find out what happened to her.”
“So you’re a cop.”
“A forensic profiler.”
“Fascinating line of work,” he said, but he didn’t seem surprised.
“Sometimes.”
“And how does Romain figure into your situation? Besides the fact that he’s finally met someone who’s brought his libido roaring back to life.”
She ignored the second part. Not only was it tacky of Tom to say so, his suggestive tone put her on edge. “I’m not sure how he figures in.”
“Did he get a note, too? Is he trying to convince the police to reopen Adele’s case?”
“He hasn’t gotten anything.” Or surely he would’ve told her by now. “I don’t think our correspondent knows how to find him. That’s the reason for this.” She held up the crumpled letter. “As far as Romain’s concerned, there’s no connection between Adele’s kidnap and my sister’s. He’s trying to put the past behind him.”