But I would not build another family out of silence.
“Sometimes.”
Emma leaned closer.
“Did anyone help you?”
“Grandma Rose did.”
She touched the picture gently.
“Then she’s kind of still helping.”
I looked at the tin box. The locket. The compass on Noah’s desk. The documents that had cracked open a house. The truth spreading through our family like thaw.
“Yes,” I said. “I think she is.”
Three days before the thirty-day deadline, Brent came to my office parking lot.
He was waiting beside my car when I walked out at five-thirty, the sky already dark, the air bitter cold.
I stopped ten feet away.
“Move.”
He smiled without warmth. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
“You think you’re untouchable because you’ve got lawyers?”
I pulled out my phone.
His smile faded.
“I’m recording,” I said. “Choose your next words like they matter.”
