Written.
Martha Whitmore.
I knew the handwriting.
My fingers went cold against the edge of the door.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
Daniel glanced down at the envelope, then back at me. “May I come inside?”
“No.”
Written.
Martha Whitmore.
I knew the handwriting.
My fingers went cold against the edge of the door.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
Daniel glanced down at the envelope, then back at me. “May I come inside?”
“No.”