The morning sun streamed through the windows of George's Chicago apartment, casting warm light across the kitchen table where he sat with his coffee. But the warmth did nothing to chase away the cold dread that had settled in his chest.
George stared at the letter from Jonathan Sterling. The words blurred in front of his eyes. He'd read it a dozen times already, but each time, it hit him like a physical blow.
Dear Mr. Blackwood,
I am writing to inform you that I have discovered additional documents pertaining to your mother's death. These documents suggest that your father was not the only one involved in the cover-up. There were others. People who helped him hide the truth.
I believe you have the right to know who they were.
Please contact my office at your earliest convenience.
Sin
