Chapter 32 - the envelope under the windshield
I did not sleep that night. At sunrise, I was on the highway heading south toward the state university, the tires humming against the concrete seams. I called Claire from hands-free.
"Did you give anyone Lily’s campus address?" I asked without greeting her.
Her voice was instantly alert. "What? No. Why would I do that?"
"Lily got a note last night."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "What kind of note?"
"A napkin. Left outside her window. It had the nickname Julian used in his notes."
"Julian is in maximum security in Cumberland," Claire said, her voice rising in pitch, teetering on that old familiar hysteria she had worked so hard in therapy to dismantle. "He has no internet access. His mail is screened by prison censors. You know this. The victim advocate assured us—"
"I know what the advocate said," I interrupted calmly, trying to anchor her while my own stomach twisted. "I’m driving down there now. Call the registrar’s office. Make sure Lily’s student directory status is set to completely private. No dorm listings, no public directory."
"I’m coming too," she said.
"No. Stay with our son. If someone is watching, I don’t want both of us away from the house."
When I pulled up to Brewster Hall three hours later, the red brick dormitory looked completely mundane. Freshmen in hoodies were carrying laundry baskets across the lawn; someone was tossing a frisbee in the brisk autumn breeze. It looked like safety. It looked like the normal life we had fought so hard to give her.
Lily met me in the lobby. She looked smaller under the harsh fluorescent lights, her arms wrapped around her cardigan.
"Show me the napkin," I said gently.
She reached into her tote bag and handed me a clear plastic sandwich bag. Inside was a brown paper napkin from the campus diner. In neat, blue ballpoint ink, the letters were unmistakable: *Welcome home, little bird.*
May you like
"Did you see anyone?"
"No," Lily whispered. "I woke up at six to study, pulled open the blinds, and the cup was sitting right there on the brick sill outside. The coffee was still lukewarm, Dad."
