A man like that.”

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I felt it in my throat.

“Who?” I said.

“Who is he?

Tell me his name.” But Sarah shook her head and took another step back toward the paved drive, and I understood that she was not going to say it out loud, that she had decided, somewhere in her ten years of fear, that she would never be the one to speak his name aloud, that speaking it was a line she could not cross even now.

“Read the letter,” she said.