The Border Letters

Aoife Byrne built her life on systems: manifests, routes, colour-coded crates, locks that click shut with certainty. In the quiet hours of a Dundalk depot, order is safety—and safety is something she's fought for, earned, and refused to apologise for. Then a note appears inside her paperwork. Not a threat. Not a demand. Just a private detail no stranger should know. At first she tells herself it's a joke, a coincidence, a tired mind seeing patterns where none exist. But the notes keep coming—each one precise, each one intimate, each one proof of proximity. Someone is watching her habits, her movements, her small tells. Worse: someone is close enough to leave evidence behind without being seen. As Aoife pulls at the thread, she finds gaps where there shouldn't be any: a missing line in a log, a packet moved without record, a sealed envelope that doesn't feel right in her hands. The border that once meant routes and schedules begins to mean something else entirely—jurisdictions, leverage, and the kind of power that hides behind paperwork. With her business, her family, and her own body suddenly in the frame, Aoife has to decide what she's willing to risk to find the truth. Because the person writing to her isn't looking for conversation. They're testing access. And they're getting closer. The Border Letters is an Irish domestic-procedural thriller with sharp atmosphere, emotional realism, and the slow, terrifying certainty of being watched by someone who knows your life better than you do.