A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son

Frank shifted in his chair.

“Irene knew where the duplicate key was,” he said.

“She knew what should be in the safe.

I was here when she opened it.”

“That doesn’t tell us what happened before she went away.”

“No,” he said.

“But neither does being tired.”

Brenda’s mouth tightened.