Shane didn't see the postcard until the following morning, when he was walking into the living room from the hall. It was laying face down on the floor, and he picked it up, flipping it over to look at the picture.
The image was vaguely familiar, though it took looking at the text at the bottom for the jagged line of stones to click. Dunlace Castle in Ireland.
His eyes narrowed. That wasn't, couldn't be a coincidence. How many people in this building knew where he was from? Iris came to mind, but errant postcards didn't really seem like her style. But other than her...Boyd was all there was.
He studied the image like it would tell him something, like there was some code in the jagged towers that would tell him who had slid the card under his door and for what purpose. If it was Boyd, maybe the secret to why she'd decided to cut him off was in there somewhere, hidden in the pattern of the waves in the worn, sepia photograph.
All he saw was a grainy image and glowing white writing, significant only to the time and place the photo was taken, frozen froth dashing on the rocks, no symbol to be spotted.
Except that someone had their eye on him. Someone who knew him.