The letter inside was from Gray.
But the first sentence made my stomach drop.
“First, please forgive the way I found your address.”
I sank onto the porch steps, reading as my pulse got louder in my ears.
He explained he’d noticed my license plate at the grocery store.
He’d asked an old friend—someone who used to work for the police department—to help him track me down.
Not to hurt me.
Not to scare me.
To return what he called a kindness.
I kept reading.
And then I hit the part that made everything from the store feel… staged.
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