Her body went alternately hot and cold as she studied every single square inch of them. She couldn’t see anything that looked wrong. And being a photographer herself, she knew what to look for.
What if whoever was behind them was really good? What if that was how they were able to make them look so authentic?
Who would make something like these and send them to Shane? A jealous woman who wanted Shane for herself? But Ginger had never noticed anybody like that around. He’d always been careful to let people know he was with Ginger and Ginger only.
She didn’t have any stalker or psycho ex-boyfriend either. She’d dated a boy before Shane, but that had been her freshman year of high school. The last she’d heard, he was a successful lawyer, happily married with two kids.
She reached for the envelope. The front had Shane’s name and address, and some PO box for the sender who hadn’t bothered to put down his—or her—name. It was postmarked the previous May.
Now it made sense. His erratic behavior. His leaving. His refusal to talk to her.
Anger exploded in her chest, stealing her breath. She was shaking so hard, she couldn’t even cry out in fury. Her eyes grew hot with unshed tears. He should’ve confronted her with them. Given her a chance to explain. She’d deserved that much, hadn’t she?
At the same time, a small part of her knew why he hadn’t. He’d never had any role model. That had been before his siblings had settled down, and his parents’ marriage had been a train wreck. She could just see him asking Salazar for advice. “Well, son, you should’ve expected it. That’s always how relationships go. There are other fish in the sea.”
The fury turned into an aching sense of loss and betrayal. She tried to blink away the tears, but they coursed down her cheeks anyway.
She stuffed the horrible pictures back into the envelope and shoved it into her purse. She was about to leave, then stopped at the sight of Shane. Quickly she scribbled a note for him on a napkin:
I just remembered something I have to do. Don’t worry about me.
She was going to find out who’d sabotaged her relationship with Shane and stolen one of the most precious things in her life. And then there would be hell to pay.
Chapter Sixteen
The first thing Ginger did when she got home was boot her laptop so she could look up the address. The PO Box was located in Cincinnati, Ohio. She could probably call the post office and ask who was renting it.
The United States Postal Service site pulled up the number
. When she dialed, the clerk said there must’ve been an error since the PO Box number didn’t exist. “You might want to contact the sender for the right address.”
“I don’t have their number or anything,” she said.
“Oh. Then I don’t know. Do you at least know their full name or the company name?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
The man sucked his teeth. “Don’t know what to tell you then.”
“Thanks anyway.” She hung up. Dead end.
She bit her lower lip. Why did she think it’d be easy? She’d thought she’d trace the address, find whoever was behind this and confront them. Were there any fingerprints on the envelope? She stared at it dubiously. Cop shows always had people handle evidence with gloves on. She doubted there was anything usable left after Shane and she had touched the envelope with their bare hands, assuming that the sender had been careless. It looked like it had all been carefully planned.
Who could help her figure this out? Shane’s family had private investigators on retainer to handle delicate situations, but she didn’t want to use them. She wasn’t certain that they’d be discreet until she got to the bottom of this. Their loyalty was to Shane, not her.
Then she snapped her fingers. Trevor!
How could she not have thought of this? She picked up her phone again and speed-dialed her brother. He’d always said he had contacts. Maybe they could dig around. When he didn’t pick up, she called her parents’ farm. Zoe answered the phone.
“Hi Mom. Is Trevor there?”
“No, he had to leave suddenly.”
“For what?”
“He said it was classified.” Ginger could imagine her mother rolling her eyes. Trevor threw that around so many times that they weren’t sure if it was for real or a code word for “I don’t want to talk bout it.”
“Did he say when he was coming back?” Trevor didn’t answer his phone or check voice mail when he was on his “classified” assignments.