But his hands were trembling, because whoever sent that letter was not done.
And they were close.
Jerry did not sleep that night. The letter sat folded in his pocket like a burning coal. Every time he moved, he felt it there—silent, threatening, alive.
We know what you did not go to prison for.
Those words echoed in his head again and again.
He watched Elelliana and Jessica sleep from the doorway.
Elelliana’s face looked tired, even in rest. Jessica’s tiny chest rose and fell gently, fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.
Jerry’s heart tightened.
I cannot let my past destroy this, he thought.
The next morning, trouble arrived early.
Jerry had just dropped Jessica at daycare when two men stepped out of a black car and blocked his path.
“Jerry Okafor?” one asked.
Jerry’s stomach dropped. “Yes,” he replied slowly.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” the man said, flashing a badge.
People nearby slowed down to watch. Jerry felt the old shame crawl back into his skin.
“What is this about?” he asked.
“You’ll know soon,” the second man replied. “Please come with us.”
Jerry followed them, heart racing.
