Page 61 of The Girl from Widow Hills
“Jessie said, well, it’s kind of in the middle of nowhere. And you live all alone.”
Jessie sure had a lot of information for someone I’d met once for twenty seconds.
“I’m not all alone out there,” I said, because at the end of the day, no matter what had happened in Rick’s previous life, I realized that was absolutely true.
ON THE WAY HOME,I paused my car at the entrance to my driveway. I hadn’t checked the mail in a few days. Not Friday night, when I’d stumbled in from the bar, and not Saturday, when I’d been brought back home by Elyse, watched over by both her and Bennett.
Now there were several days’ worth of envelopes and magazines stacked inside. I usually tossed half of it as junk. As I sorted through the stack, I found a handwritten envelope at the bottom of the pile.
There was no stamp, no return address. The only words on the front were my name. No street address, town, or state. Someone had dropped this here in person. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, though there wasn’t much to go on.
I tore the envelope open, pulled out a rectangle of unlined paper.
My hands started shaking before I even finished skimming the first sentence.
Olivia,
You may not remember me, and even if you do, you may want to forget.
Maybe you do remember and just don’t want to talk to me, and I understand that, too.
My name is Sean Coleman, and we were connected many years ago. I was involved in your rescue in Widow Hills.
I understand if you want to leave this all behind you, but I feel some responsibility toward you. I’ve come a long way to see you. I don’t want to scare you, but I need you to contact me.
Please, you can call me at the number below anytime. I’ll be staying at the Highland Inn through the end of the week.
Fuck.
I read it again. A third time. Trying to see something new each time.
Had Sean Coleman come here on Friday night to leave me this letter? Had it been sitting here, waiting for me to find it, ever since?
For one terrible second, I debated tucking it away with the pile of junk mail, slipping it into the trash can, pretending it never existed.
But he’d come here for a reason. He’d come here for me.
And it sounded like he’d come here to warn me about something.
RETURN TO SENDER
No Forwarding Address
POSTMARKED: LEXINGTON, KY
MAY 26, 2011
It’s time to tell the truth. You know what to do. And you know what will happen if you don’t.
