A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son
Greg was in the back office, staring at a spreadsheet.
“Brenda called,” he said before I sat down.
“What did she tell you?”
“That you’re upset.”
“She didn’t tell you why?”
He rubbed his cuff with his thumb.
“Something about missing cash.”
I described the safe.
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