Jonathan had discovered bookcrossing.com while researching a case, of all things. He'd been visiting a database and seen a banner ad off to the side, following it on a whim.
He'd gone looking for books 'released' in the area, but he hadn't really intended to pick one up until he saw that one was going to be left at the theater. He'd been meaning to investigate it anyway, and when he got there twenty minutes later, he smiled at the names on the marquee. In this neighborhood, nothing could ever be coincidence.
Getting into the theater was easy enough - he told the usher that his girlfriend had left her purse behind and darted in before the next show started. It took a little searching to find the book, but then there it was, sitting on the seat as if it intended to stay for the show.
He took it home, paging through it while he walked. What a novel (ha) idea, leaving books for anyone to find. There was something all too dramatic about it, but the sentiment was sweet. Free books could only ever be a good thing.
He'd never gotten around to reading The Life of Pi. He had a tendency to stay away from heavily hyped books until after the frenzy had died down. No excuse not to read it now.
Halfway through the book, he stopped. There was a folded piece of paper there. He opened it, expecting something average - a receipt, or someone's shopping list.
A handwritten letter was unanticipated, and he stopped halfway home, leaning against the side of a building as streetlights began turning on all down the street.
The subject matter was poignant and heart wrenching, and when he was done reading it he'd already decided he liked it better than whatever was on the pages of the book it had been tucked inside. The letter was real, was true. Why lie so earnestly? It could be a fabrication, of course, that was a possibility, but it wasn't a possibility he was willing to believe. There was something a touch raw about it, very present, fixed on the current problem.
He tucked the letter back into the book and mounted the steps that led into Bellum. Anyone could have written the letter, of course, but 'notafairytale' seemed, again, too coincidental to be pure coincidence.
The question was, who? And why? Worth pursuing. Worth trying to contact the mystery woman back.