He held out his phone.
“I called Clara Voss.”
My pulse changed.
“And?”
“She still lives in Chicago. She refused to discuss your mail over the phone. But I found something in the old office.”
“What?”
“A locked cabinet in the records room. It was listed under your mother’s private correspondence.”
Evelyn went still.
Marcus continued, “The cabinet was never transferred when Clara retired. The building manager let me access it.”
“What was inside?”
“Letters.”
My eyes moved to the folder in Evelyn’s hands.
“How many?”
“Seven from Evelyn. Two from a hospital. One from a family court attorney.”
Evelyn’s lips parted.
Marcus looked at her. “There’s also an envelope addressed to Adrian. It was never opened.”
“Who signed it?” I asked.
He turned his phone toward me.
The photograph showed a cream-colored envelope, dust along its edges, my name written in a familiar hand.
Beneath it, in smaller letters, was a sentence that made the room seem to lose all its warmth.
