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

“I’ve seen it before.”

That was possible.

He had been in my home many times.

I could not honestly claim that knowing the color of a family object proved a theft.

But he had said it too readily, in a conversation about locks and money, and he seemed to know exactly why the words mattered.

“When?” I asked.

“You must have shown it to me.”

“Recently?”