A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

whistling its familiar, steady tune.

Stacey sat on the green linoleum floor near the pantry, her back against the lower cabinet, holding a blue ceramic mug between both hands.

The smell of fresh coffee filled the small room, cutting through the damp chill we had carried in from the porch.

“I found a box of old photos under my dresser this afternoon,” continue reading …