Chapter 58

After Ashley and I got home from not selling candles, I went to the barn before dinner. When I got to the top of the stairs, I went into Sam’s office. I knew it was wrong to snoop, but I was dying for more information about him.

Mail littered the top of his desk, but it looked like just a bunch of bills. I opened the desk drawer and found files listed: Invoices, Insurance, Tax docs, Utilities, Car repair, S-Corp Current.

Then I came to a file that simply said Letters. I pulled it from the drawer and sat in Sam’s leather chair. The letter on the top was on official letterhead from Washington D.C. I flipped through and found more letters from the same office.

One was addressed to Sam Timberline at our address. The date showed it was before we moved to Colorado.

Dear Mr. Timberline,

I am pleased to hear that you have settled into your new home. I trust things are going well in this difficult transition. Rest assured many here are aware of the sacrifice you have made for your country.

If there is anything we can do for you and your daughter, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m hoping one day you’ll be able to return to Washington when we apprehend the perpetrators of this heinous crime.

Godspeed and success in your new business. Maybe one of these days you can fly my family and me to one of the ski resorts out there.

It was signed by the director of the Department of Homeland Security. I felt guilty about going through Sam’s stuff, so I put the letter back in the file and tried to return it to the drawer. But the file was too full. I rearranged the letters and pulled the drawer out all the way. It slipped off its rollers and thudded to the floor.

I knelt, pushed the file in, then tried to get the drawer back onto its rollers. Something caught my eye at the back of the desk—a smushed envelope wedged in the corner. I grabbed it.

The postmark was smudged so I couldn’t read the date, but it looked pretty old. The return address said it was from Marshall Faulkner somewhere in Germany. It was addressed to Lynn Vickers.

A door banged downstairs and my heart jumped. Sam’s not supposed to be back yet!

I picked up the drawer, got it back on track, and shoved it closed. I stashed the letter in my pocket and tiptoed to the exercise room.