A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son
He confirmed that the man I described had left before dawn, at about a quarter past four.
He didn’t offer me a copy of a registration form or promise that a name on it would be genuine.
He wrote down my contact information and said any request from the police would be handled promptly.
Martha remembered his fingers tapping the counter while he waited.
“Five times?” I asked.
She considered it.
“Several.
I wasn’t counting.”