The driver’s side window rolled down slightly, revealing a pale, exhausted face that I recognized instantly.

It was Rebecca.

And in her hand, held up against the steering wheel, was the yellowed envelope with the red wax seal.

At that moment, Thomas’s phone also began to vibrate violently on the table.

He looked down at the screen, and the color drained completely from his face.

Thomas did not look at me.

His eyes remained glued to the vibrating phone, the screen flashing a name he clearly had not expected to see.

“Who is that, Thomas?” I asked, my voice tight.

“It’s nobody,” he said, but his hand shook as he reached out to press the lock button, silencing the device.

“It’s Rebecca, isn’t it?” Caroline said.

Her voice was incredibly calm, almost clinical, as she pointed her index finger toward the rain-streaked window of the coffee shop.

Through the glass, the rusty blue sedan sat idling, its exhaust rising in pale plumes into the cold Fredericksburg air.

“We are going outside,” I said, sliding my chair back.