He pushed off the covers and started to get out of bed when he suddenly stopped himself. How had he been able to hear the opening and closing of the mailbox lid? The mailbox was at the far end of the trailer, and the sound it made could be heard only when standing right next to it. And how had the sound woken him up? He was a heavy sleeper and ordinarily he slept through the night without awakening. Even his alarm usually had a difficult time rousing him.

He felt a sudden chill, and he quickly stood up and put on his robe. Something strange was going on here. If the mailman was still outside, he was going to ask that queer little son of a bitch…

How had he known it was the mailman?

The chill grew, coldness creeping up his spine. It was such a bizarre thought to begin with, why had he assumed—no, known—that the mailman had just made a delivery in the middle of the night? Why hadn’t he thought that vandals were tampering with his mailbox? That kids were dropping eggs in there?

Hobie walked out to the living room in the front of the trailer. He was not a timid man, but he had to force himself to move forward across the carpet. What he really wanted to do was return to bed and hide his head under the covers.

He opened the door. The street was empty. Moonlight shone on the hoods of his cars in the front yard. He put his hand in the mailbox and withdrew an envelope. It was thick, stuffed. He closed and locked the door behind him, turning on the lamp in the living room and looking at the envelope in the light. There was no return address, but the postmark was Vietnam.

Vietnam?

He examined the postmark more carefully. It was dated June 4, 1968.

A cold sweat broke out on his body. The temperature in the trailer seemed at once too cold and too hot, and he sat down heavily on the couch, staring at the envelope in his hand, not having the nerve to open it.

Vietnam. 1968.

It wasn’t possible. A letter could not have been lost for over twenty years and then found and delivered. Could it? He fingered the envelope nervously. Maybe Doug was right. Maybe it was the mailman himself doing this, sending these fake letters to people. Why else would he be delivering them in the middle of the night?

But why would he do such a thing? What could he possible hope to gain? It was a felony to tamper with the mails. If he got caught, he would go to prison.

Hobie tore open the envelope.