Elena’s POV

“I don’t know who that is.” The words came out quieter than I meant them to.

“It was on the entryway table yesterday. No stamp. No return address. Just my name and that.”

Samantha turned the card over, then back again.

“Your arm. How is it? I left something for you at the front desk of the Fairmont if you decide you want it back. —N.C.” She frowned. “That’s it?”

“Yep. That’s it.”

“And you’re going to pick it up.”

“I’m going to find out what it is. And maybe who left it.”

Samantha raised an eyebrow. “This is exactly how women in horror movies get themselves killed....