As I reached the edge of the city limits, my cell phone began to vibrate in the cup holder.

The screen lit up with an unknown local number.

I let it ring three times, then decided to answer, thinking it might be David with a follow-up from the clerk’s office.

“This is Meredith,” I said, keeping my eyes on the highway ahead.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

I could hear the sound of heavy breathing, and then a background noise that sounded like a television playing static.

“Meredith,” a voice said.

It was not David.

It was a voice I had not heard in five years, low and raspy, coming from a place I thought I had locked away forever.

“You should have let them sell the place,” the voice whispered.

I pulled the truck onto the shoulder of the highway, my tires crunching on the gravel.

My heart began to race again, the quiet peace of the courtroom ruling vanishing in an instant.

“Who is this?” I asked, my fingers tightening on the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.