Angela

I want one of the little babies like that.

They're so cute.

So she's like, well, you tell me I don't belong.

No, I don't belong around you at the bottom.

I'm already sick.

No, can't go.

um so uh she's like well i was sick and i don't like going places i don't belong so there but you know you did say that remember you shaded me but saying i didn't belong andrew's like oh oh okay i understand it's i it's just hard because you speak in like segments of sentences so it's really hard to put the segments together

Did you send it to Keon?

And I'm going to keep doing it too.

I'm just going to keep doing it anywhere they'll allow me.

Angela.

Angela.

After reading the letter, I opened the deck.

Six of the cards were disfigured with red splotches like blood on the front.

Six of hearts, three of clubs, nine of spades, ace of clubs, eight of hearts, and the jack of diamonds.

I called my brother, who's a detective up in Michigan, to ask if he could nose around, see what he could dig up about Jack.

His search led to a coroner's report of a man found dead in a rail yard 20 miles north of Cincinnati.

His body had been desecrated with a symbol linked to a string of missing children in the area.

It was an ongoing investigation, so they withheld his name, but the description and age lined up, as did the date of death, same as the postmark on my letter.

I had thought to tell my brother about the letter and the deck of cards from Jack, but that's where it stayed.