The Prescotts Thought My Uniform Was Decorative

of the handwritten note. I held it up between two fingers.

“Who wrote this?”

Gayle’s eyes moved over the paper.

For half a second, she looked old.

Then Mrs. Mendoza spoke from behind us.

“Mr. Prescott.”

Todd turned.

“My father is dead,” he snapped.

Mrs. Mendoza nodded.

“Yes.”

She looked at me.

“He gave it to me before he died. He told me if another woman went continue reading …