Too quickly.
“You know,” I said.
“I don’t.”
“You just told me everything.”
The officer stepped forward.
“If property was removed, that’s relevant.”
Evelyn added calmly,
“And potentially very serious.”
Madeline cracked.
“It’s in the garage.”
Then—worse—
“You said she wasn’t coming back. You said Dad was going to sell the house anyway.”
Silence.
Evelyn’s voice sharpened.
“Sell it?”
Too late.
The garage smelled like dust and neglect.
And there it was.
Hidden.
My mother’s cedar chest.
“Open it,” I said.
Madeline hesitated—but did it.
Inside—
Everything.
Letters. Photos. Memories.
And at the bottom—
An envelope.
