It was her father’s handwriting. Charles Whitmore. The man who had threatened to kill me. “You think you have escaped, Sarah, but you cannot outrun what you did,” the letter read. The postmark was from 1958 — three years after we had left the South.
Read also
I had thought he cut her off the moment we left. I never knew they had been in contact. I never knew he had found us. My hands trembled as I opened the next one, dread pooling in my stomach.
Top Articles



