A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

crease turning white under the pressure of my thumbs.

“Are you sure?” Stacey asked.

“I have never been surer of anything,” I said.

I tore the paper down the middle. The sound of the thick parchment parting was loud in the quiet kitchen, a sharp, clean snap that seemed to echo off the walls.

I tore it again, crossing the first tear, until the gold notary continue reading …