The metal lockbox split into view beside him.
Daniel yelled, “Now!”
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I grabbed Tom’s wrist. The gun fired into the ceiling. Dirt and wood came down. Daniel kicked his leg. Alice slammed the shovel into his shoulder. He stumbled backward, and the rotten boards under him gave way.
He crashed into the lower pit.
The metal lockbox split into view beside him.
By the time the state police came down the steps, Tom was trapped under broken timber, still cursing, and Daniel was holding up his phone with shaking hands.
Ben hugged her and she started to cry.
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The recording had threats. Partial admissions. Enough.
The box did the rest.
It was wrapped in oilcloth and sealed in contractor bags. Inside were ledgers, letters, bank records, placement files, names, dates. My brother-in-law had known exactly how dangerous this was.
Alice came home two days later.
Not like a miracle. Like damage returning to the scene.
Ben hugged her and she started to cry.
Daniel barely left her side.
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Rachel looked at her and said, “You missed everything.”
Mia asked, “Did you still love us?”
Alice answered, “Every day.”
Daniel barely left her side.
As for me, I did not know where to stand. For twelve years I had been the one signing forms, making lunches, waiting up at night.
One night, after the younger ones were asleep, I said to Alice, “I don’t know what I am now.”
