The post office was surprisingly quiet, save for the gentle hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of shuffling papers. As we stepped inside, the atmosphere seemed to shift, enveloping us in an aura of anticipation. Lydia and I exchanged a determined glance before approaching the front counter, where a middle-aged woman with glasses perched on her nose was sorting through a stack of envelopes.
"Excuse me, ma'am," I began, my voice polite. "We were wondering if you could help us with some information."
The woman looked up, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Of course, dear. What can I assist you with?"
"We're trying to find out more about a girl named Jordie Richards. Do you have any records of her or her family?" Lydia asked, leaning in slightly.
The women's smile faltered for a moment, her eyes clouding over with a hint of sadness. "Jordie Richards... I'm afraid that name sounds familiar, but I can't divulge any personal information without proper authorization."
"We understand that, but we're not trying to invade anyone's privacy," I quickly reassured her. "We're just concerned about recent events in town and we're hoping to piece together some information."
The woman's gaze softened as she looked between us. "I can't give you any official records, but I remember seeing Jordie and her mother here quite often. They've had their fair share of hardships, especially after her father passed away a few years ago."
Lydia and I exchanged a glance, a new piece of the puzzle falling into place. "Do you know what kind of hardships they were facing?" Lydia inquired.
The woman sighed, her fingers tapping lightly on the counter. "Financial troubles mostly. It's never easy being a single parent, and I imagine they were doing their best to make ends meet. Jordie's mother would often come in to send money orders, and they had a P.O. box here as well."
I began to look around for any excuse for this lady to give us more information. Lydia was eyeing me down from her peripheral vision. I think she was confused why we even bothered to go to the postal service but there wasn't much else where we could go in Zepotha. The other shops were already closing thanks to the new curfew issued by our ever-competent Zepothian Police Department and this was the closest one that was open at this hour.
I was beginning to feel the adrenaline spike in my blood. One killing already happened yesterday, what if there was another tonight? I bit my lip at the prospect, my brow furrowed. I reached into my pocket hoping to find something resembling an answer to my questions. I felt paper in my hand. Must be Vincent and Cole's hotel number. I don't know what compelled me, but I took it out while Lydia continued talking to the clerk. What I held in my hand was not the paper that I scrawled Vincent and Cole's hotel number. It was a yellow-lined page that had probably been ripped out of a notepad badly. Like really badly. Almost like someone was in a rush, and that someone was not me since the writing on it didn't resemble mine at all.
"Don't tell anyone else about what I told you. It won't be safe for you if you do. We need to talk. Meet me tonight at the place where it started.
-J"
I stared at it a few times. Hoping that maybe it would help me absorb what the fuck I just read. 'Won't be safe for me'? What is Jordie playing at exactly? Just because she killed someone she can now blackmail and threaten me? And how did this page even magically appear in my pocket? It made no sense. I realized a little too late that my breathing was frantic as both Lydia and the clerk were looking at me awkwardly with hints of concern in their eyes.
