“Was there more?”

Kelsey hesitated, glanced toward the hallway, then stood.

“I need to show you something.”

She went to one of the duffel bags in the entryway and came back with a cloth pouch.

From it she took a faded envelope, the heavy paper gone soft with six years of handling.

My name was on the front.

In my handwriting.

“Where did you get this?”