After Nine-Year-Old Sadie Called Munich, Walter Hensley Drove Through the Snow
“That was a misunderstanding about discipline,” she insisted, her voice cracking into another high squeal of static.
“Please, Valerie.
Tell the prosecutor it was a private family mistake.”
“The prosecutor already has the duplicate notary stamp from Trevor’s dresser,” I said, and pressed the red button to hang up.
My father came into the kitchen carrying two blue ceramic mugs of fresh coffee.
He set one mug on the oak dining table in front of my chair and pulled out the heavy captain’s chair across from me.
“Was that Colleen?” he asked quietly.
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