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 tell her. “Well, I suggested he meet me at All Hallows to talk about it. At seven tonight.”I was right. Connie half rose from her chair with a murderous gleam in her eyes, then sat down abruptly.“The way I figure it, Connie, if he’s guilty, he’ll turn up just to see what I know.
