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Sheriff Tate stared at the faded writing across the front.

His face changed.

I stepped closer.

The name had been written in black ink.

EMILY ROSS

Nobody spoke.

Tate took the envelope carefully.

“Where was this?”

“In the back of an old filing cabinet.”

“That cabinet was emptied years ago.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The deputy wiped rain from his face.

“It was wedged beneath the bottom drawer.”

Judy moved beside Tate.

“Don’t open it.”

He looked at her.

“Why?”

“The seal is broken.”

She pointed toward the dried evidence tape.

Someone had sliced through it.

Not torn it.

Not damaged it by accident.

Cut it.

Judy held out her hand.

I handed her a pair of gloves before she could ask.

She looked down at them.

Then up at me.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

A small smile touched her lips.