“The real evidence is in a watertight lockbox.”
Advertisement
“And it never was?”
Her eyes filled. “Every time I thought maybe it was, I would see Tom in town. At a gas station. In a county office parking lot. Once outside Daniel’s middle school. He was making sure I knew.”
Daniel wiped his face. “Then why come back now?”
Alice looked at him. “Because I heard Tom was about to retire. Because I finally found the rest of your father’s notes. Because I thought if I did nothing, he would die respected and buried under lies.”
Instead, the next morning, I made a worse choice.
Advertisement
Then Alice said, “The real evidence is in a watertight lockbox under the root cellar of our first rental house on Miller Road.”
I blinked. “That place was half torn down years ago.”
“The foundation is still there.”
Daniel looked at me. “We should go tonight.”
Instead, the next morning, I made a worse choice.
I went to Tom.
I left without answering.
Advertisement
He stood on his porch with a coffee mug in his hand and smiled when he saw me. “You look tired.”
I kept my face neutral. “Daniel found something in the attic. A letter. It mentioned Blackwood Chapel.”
For one second, his expression froze.
Then he smiled again. “Old places make people imagine strange things.”
He stepped closer. “If you found anything real, you should bring it to me.”
His voice was gentle. Too gentle.
I left without answering.
