A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

wedged between a stack of photo albums and a winter coat on the bottom shelf of her trunk organizer.

“Are you sure about this, Stacey?” I asked, looking at her as she set the bin down.

Stacey did not answer right away.

She looked back at the large front door of the town house, the brass house numbers gleaming in the fading sun.

“If I do not leave today,continue reading …