pressed closed again. Along the edge, a faint line of dark blue ink had seeped into the fibers.
I turned it over.
“There’s something under the flap.”
Daniel leaned closer.
A narrow strip of paper was tucked inside the fold. I pulled it free with the tip of my fingernail.
Three words were written on it.
Room seventeen. Midnight.
I stared at the message.
“Northbridge,” I said.
Daniel’s eyes moved from the paper to me.
“Why would your mother leave that?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does room seventeen mean?”
“The
