A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

Stacey said, looking at the pattern of the linoleum between her boots.

“The ones from the lake cabin?” I asked, leaning back against the sink.

“Some of them,” she said. “There was one of us from the summer we turned thirty, before any of this started.”

She set her mug down on the floor next to her, the ceramic making a dull thud against the green vinyl.continue reading …