A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son
“Saturday morning.
Someone drove him.”
She studied the sticker in the rear window.
“That’s a commercial rental label.
The Route Nine agency uses those.”
“You can tell from this?”
“Greg rents there when the delivery van is in the shop.”
She looked up too quickly, as though she wanted to take the connection back.
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