A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

pulled down completely over her hands, the yarn fraying slightly at the cuffs.

Chloe was waiting her turn by the metal ladder, hopping from her left foot to her right foot in the damp woodchips.

“Watch me, Mom,” Chloe called out, her voice rising above the squeak of the rusty chains.

“I see you, sweetie,” I said.

Usually, I would have checked my wrist continue reading …