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

“He didn’t find the address by accident,” I said.

“No.”

“And he wasn’t alone.”

“No.”

For a while, that was all either of us could say.

We saved still images with the times visible.

A frame from the car’s departure showed the plate well enough to read, although the windshield never cleared enough to identify the driver.

Frank thought the sedan might be a Chrysler.