The winding roads were slick with rain, and thick fog drifted like a ghost between the huge pine trees.

I kept one hand firmly on the steering wheel and rested the other protectively on the bag holding Brandon’s hidden letters.

When we turned onto the dirt driveway leading to the cabin, I saw Leonard Ross’s sedan already parked near the front porch.

He stood under the small wooden awning, a frail older man bundled in a heavy coat and holding a bright flashlight.

The old cabin looked much smaller than I remembered.