“We may not like what we find tomorrow.”
I said, “After today, you’re still worried about my wig?”
She gave me a weak smile. “Obviously.”
I sat beside her on the bed.
“We may not like what we find tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“We may find out your father made choices I don’t understand.”
I barely slept.
“I know.”
“But we go together.”
That got the first real expression out of her since the office. She leaned into my shoulder and whispered, “Always.”
I barely slept.
Somewhere close to dawn, I realized that for the first time in a year, the thing beating hardest in me was not fear.
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It was hope.
Someone had already knocked on Rosa’s door before sunrise.
By morning, we would be driving to a blue house near a church. To a woman who might know why Daniel vanished. To answers tied to Ava, to me, and to the life I thought had been buried fifteen years ago.
And what I did not know yet was this:
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Someone had already knocked on Rosa’s door before sunrise.
And she had let him in.
