I sat back in the chair, stunned.
“She remembered me?”
He nodded.
“She never forgot you.”
“She remembered me?”
“Before I say anything else,” Dennis murmured, “you need to read what Charlotte wrote… the night she disappeared.”
He slid a single envelope across the desk. Inside was a handwritten letter.
On the front, in that familiar shaky scrawl, it said: “For my brave girl.”
I ran my thumb across the envelope as if it might vanish if I blinked too long. My hands were shaking.
Continue reading…
