Mark drove home and came back within the hour carrying the envelope, its paper yellowed and my name written across the front in Walter’s neat handwriting. My hands trembled as I broke the seal in Dr. Mitchell’s office, with Mark sitting close beside me. Inside lay a single folded page and a small brass key taped to it.

The first line read, “Eleanor, if you are reading this, then Vivian Brooks was right, and I am sorry I could not tell you while I lived.” Mark leaned over my shoulder and went silent. Then the door opened, and a silver-haired woman stepped in holding a small silver briefcase. “Hello, Eleanor,” she said softly. “I have waited ten years for this day.”