A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

house, looking out through the sheer curtains at the quiet street.

Stacey was in the master bedroom, the sound of cardboard boxes being taped shut echoing down the long hallway.

“Is that his car?” she called out, her voice tight with panic.

“It’s just the neighbor’s delivery truck,” I said, my hand resting on the cold window frame. “The street is completely continue reading …