The note was tucked inside the coffee filter.

“Stop asking questions or you’ll end up like her.”

No signature. No blood. Just ink and threat.

Detective Rayna Holt stared at the folded scrap, then at the still-steaming mug of coffee she’d brewed before finding it.

She didn’t drink it.

Outside, the city was waking up. Cars. Sirens. Ordinary noise.

Inside, Rayna took the filter, wrapped it in a sandwich bag, and locked it in her evidence drawer.

She hadn’t told anyone she was looking into Mariana’s case. No one.

Which meant the person who left the note wasn’t warning her.

They were watching her.