A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

space where the document had been. The hum of the radiator seemed to grow softer, a steady, quiet rhythm that filled the room.

“What do we do now?” Stacey asked.

“We get ready,” I said.

By ten o’clock the next morning, the mist had lifted from the gravel driveway, leaving the grass dark and wet.

Stacey carried a cardboard box marked kitchen continue reading …