A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

had lived for over a decade.

Stacey sat across from me, her fingers nervously twisting her silver hoop earrings.

“He will be back from Cleveland by noon tomorrow,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the silence.

“You have thirty hours,” I said.

“I have to get my things out before then,” she said, her voice dropping even lower.

“If I do continue reading …