A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

own, Stacey,” I said.

She stopped twisting her earring and stared down at her teacup, her shoulders tightening under her knit sweater. For a second, her face looked entirely hollow, the color draining from her cheeks.

“It is probably just an old lockbox key from a listing,” she said, though her fingers went right back to her ear, twisting continue reading …