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Abernathy had been charged with multiple counts of falsifying and mishandling evidence, as well as perjury. Lester McAllen, the monster who’d butchered Billy Bell, was only one of scores of defendants whose convictions were overturned because of Abernathy. When Abernathy and Lester McAllen were both murdered, Veronica suspected the boy’s father had killed them. She also blamed herself for contacting Tyler Bell and telling him that the man responsible for his son’s death was scheduled to be released.
    Carolyn wrapped her arms around her chest. If Veronica’s spirit was lingering somewhere, it certainly wouldn’t be inside this dreadful place. Carolyn made the sign of the cross, zipped the bag up, and quickly left the room.
    O’Malley stood, handing Carolyn a white envelope.
    “Is this her death certificate?” she asked. “I’m not a relative. She was my friend, but anything official should be handled by her husband.”
    “Turn it over,” he said. “It’s got your name on it. You’re Carolyn Sullivan, aren’t you?”
    She used her fingernail to tear open the envelope. As soon as she read it, she jerked her head up. “Where did you get this?”
    “It was on my desk,” O’Malley told her, taking a sip of his coffee.
    Carolyn’s eyes flashed with fear. “Who put it there?”
    “I don’t know,” he said. “Must have been someone on the day shift.”
    “Call them,” she said, the paper fluttering in her hand. “This is a death threat. I have to know where it came from.”
    O’Malley leaned back in his chair. “We’ve got three people working the day shift, Louise Reynolds, Sam Ornstein, and Cory Williams. Louise usually sits at this desk. She goes bowling on Tuesday nights. I guess I can try her cell phone. Tracking everyone down will take time.” He gestured toward a row of plastic chairs. “Have a seat. Want me to get you some coffee? I just put up a fresh pot.”
    Carolyn ignored him, reading through the words again. The letter had obviously been typed on a computer. The font was enormous and all the words were in caps.
    I KNOW YOUR SON GOES TO MIT.
    I KNOW YOUR DAUGHTER GOES TO VENTURA HIGH.
    I KNOW YOU NO LONGER LIVE AT THE SAME HOUSE.
    I KNOW MARCUS, THE MAN YOU ARE GOING TO MARRY.
    KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT OF THIS, OR I WILL KILL THEM ALL.
    THEN I WILL KILL YOU.
    “I need rubber gloves and an evidence envelope,” Carolyn said, interrupting O’Malley while he was dialing.
    “I can only do one thing at a time,” he complained, opening the top drawer and slapping a box of gloves on the corner of his desk.
    Carolyn set the paper down and put on the gloves, then folded the note and placed it back inside the envelope. Removing the gloves, she shoved them in her purse in case she needed them later. She was too anxious to sit down. Punching the autodial on her cell, she called Hank Sawyer and read him the letter. O’Malley was talking to someone on the phone, but he looked over at her, and she could tell he was eavesdropping.
    “This person knows me, Hank,” she said, opening the glass doors and stepping outside in the hallway. “It has to be someone from the agency. They even know I moved recently, and that I’m getting married.”
    “Your house was up for sale for six months,” the detective told her. “There’s no telling how many people passed through that place. You probably had things lying around. You know, stuff about the wedding, maybe something from MIT. As far as Rebecca is concerned, they could figure out she goes to Ventura High because of where the house was located.”
    “But we moved.”
    “They could have assumed you didn’t transfer her because teenagers hate to change schools and leave their friends.”
    “Fine, fine,” Carolyn said, beside herself. “This person still threatened to kill me and my family. Whoever wrote the note must have murdered Veronica. Am I right?”
    “Maybe,” Hank said. “It could also be a nutcase. Some guy could have walked through your