Justice for Sara Read Online Free PDF

FIVE
Monday, June 3
10:35 P.M.

    Luke kept his gaze trained on her face. Her expression registered horror. She went white. He grabbed her arm as she swayed slightly.
    Without speaking, Luke led her back out to the front porch. “Sit,” he ordered. “I’ll be right back.”
    He went to his car for a flashlight and scene kit, then returned to the bedroom and did a second search. Window was locked. No footprints or other debris on the floor near the window or the bed. Earlier, he’d checked under the bed and in the closet; he did so again in an abundance of caution.
    Nothing.
    He trained the flashlight on the bat. Peeking out from under it was something he hadn’t noticed before. A plain white envelope.
    He slipped on latex gloves and eased it out. A standard legal-size envelope. Loosely sealed. Nothing written on the front or the back.
    He returned with it to the front porch. Kat hadn’t moved.
    “Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you need some water or something?”
    “I’m fine,” she answered. “Thanks.”
    “I found this on the bed. Under the bat.”
    She looked up at him. “What is it?”
    “You tell me.”
    Recognition crossed her features, but she shook her head. “You open it.”
    He carefully unsealed the envelope. Inside was a single folded piece of paper. He slid it out. Three words: JUSTICE FOR SARA.
    Luke gazed at it. Not kids this time. Too thought-out. Slick. And not just mean. A threat. Meant to terrorize.
    “May I see it?”
    He held it out for her to read. She made a choked sound and looked away. “He found me. I suspected he would.”
    He shifted his gaze to hers. “Who?”
    “My fan.” Without further explanation, she stood and went back into the house. He followed and watched as she crossed to the hall closet and removed a plastic bin. She carried it to the living room, set it on the coffee table and removed the lid.
    It was filled with other envelopes. Other correspondence. Neatly lined up. “They’re all from him? Your fan?”
    “Yes, except for a few pieces of random hate mail.”
    Random hate mail. She said it so matter-of-factly. As if hate mail was expected, a part of everyday life.
    For her, it was. He wondered what that felt like. How it had affected her. “May I?”
    “Sure. They’re organized oldest to most recent. I don’t know why I kept them. Ghoulish masochism, maybe.”
    “Or maybe you thought you’d need them someday?”
    She hugged herself. “Yeah, maybe.”
    Luke sat on the sofa. He began at the beginning. Hatred. Vitriol. Threats of violence. Old Testament Scripture about the Lord’s vengeance. Reading them turned his stomach. He’d done a stint with the NOPD, he’d experienced evil. He’d seen firsthand the cruelty one person could inflict upon another. The hatred rooted in it.
    This was like being hammered with it.
    She sat quietly beside him. Every so often she glanced at him, or peered over, reading with him, commenting. She did that now.
    “That was one of my favorites,” she said. “The irony of it, you know. Quoting the New Testament, then damning me to hell.”
    “Which is so Old Testament.”
    She looked at him as if surprised he got it. “Exactly.”
    He refolded the page and slipped it into its envelope. “You seem pretty calm now. But before, you were scared. What gives?”
    “I’m okay now because I know he left it.”
    He frowned. “I don’t get that.”
    “This has been going on for ten years. There’s over a hundred letters in there. And I’m still here.”
    Alive. Unharmed. He nodded, understanding.
    “When did you begin receiving them?”
    “Within a month of my acquittal. They came frequently at first, then slowed to a trickle. I always get at least one on the anniversaries.”
    “The anniversaries?”
    “Of Sara’s death and my acquittal.”
    “You showed these to the police?”
    “Of course. Right away. I was terrified. They weren’t too worried. They assured me that this sort thing was expected to happen to