Both stopped speaking when I appeared.
I remembered her glancing at a blue folder on the desk while Preston’s father hurriedly shut a drawer.
The memory remained incomplete, but it prompted another recollection: the night before my fall, Preston had asked whether I still had the appointment notebooks I’d used before Lily began school.
Those notebooks were kept in a wicker basket beneath our staircase.
When I mentioned them, Jonathan immediately arranged for police to preserve the basket during their authorized examination of the property. FindPolice Jobs
Soon afterward, an investigator sent him a photograph of an envelope found beneath the small table beside the stairs.
My name was written across the front in Eleanor’s handwriting.
Below it, smaller letters formed a message:
For the day you begin questioning what you remember.
I studied the photograph until my eyes ached.
The smaller handwriting was unmistakably mine.
I recognized my connected letters, uneven spacing, and distinctive final curve.
