Mr. Dees

I DIDN’T THINK anything then about where that pen had gone, only that I’d lost it somewhere. You have to understand that I was still shaking with the fact that I had found Katie’s body, that I’d left her there in that grave. I could barely think what to do next. I stuffed my shirt into a paper grocery sack, carried it outside to my burn barrel, and set it on fire.

You’re probably thinking, That’s what Raymond R. did that Wednesday night, the fifth—burned his clothes. A guilty man covering his tracks. You’re probably thinking I’m like him.

But wait. We’re almost at the end. Stay with me just a while longer. What do you have to lose now? Please, don’t go.