Chapter 20
It had been two weeks since Dennis first showed us Fiona Voorhis’s last sad letters. Connie sat across from me at my kitchen table with a half-eaten piece of apple pie in front of her. “You did what?” Her voice cut through the air like a saw hitting a nail.
“I sent him a note.”
“What kind of note?”
“I got to thinking about that dumb movie I Know What You Did Last Summer.”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“So I sent him a note saying, ‘I know what you did.’ And I stapled it to a clipping from the Sun about this guy who’s on trial for abusing his daughters.”
“Hannah, are you nuts?”
“It was anonymous. He won’t know who sent it.”
Connie laid down her fork and relaxed into her chair. “So what’s the point?”
Connie was going to hate what I was about to
