After retiring from thirty years of teaching, I decided to take a pottery retreat in Charleston,
looking for something new to fill the quiet space in my life. On my third day there, while
walking through the historic district, I met a young woman with a baby who asked to borrow my phone.
She seemed anxious and quickly dialed a number, saying, “It’s moving. One hour. You know where.”
The call seemed strange, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. The next day, police arrived at my hotel room,
asking about the phone call. They told me the woman, Eliza, was missing and had been involved in a sensitive investigation.
My small interaction had turned into a key piece of evidence in a case involving embezzlement and hidden accounts.
The police reassured me that I hadn’t done anything wrong, but they asked me to stay alert in cas
Eliza reached out again.Days later, as I prepared to leave Charleston,
