Chapter Twelve
By the end of the afternoon, I was setting up the community room for the self-defense class by pulling chairs and tables into a roomy closet.
Wilson stuck his head in the door and held out an envelope. “Mail for you.”
“Mail?” I asked. I smoothed down my hair absently, realizing it was sticking up in the back from the furniture moving. “When do I get mail at the library?”
I took it from Wilson and frowned. “This isn’t even mail. No stamp. Looks like someone must have dropped it off.”
He shrugged. “Well, they dropped it off in a pile of library mail. I know the best way to find out more—open it up.”
I did and then stared at the single sheet of paper inside.
“What is it?” asked Wilson.
“It’s a warning,” I said slowly. I held up the paper so Wilson could see what I did:
