“I’m sorry.”
A moment later, Tyler came into the room carrying two cans of soda.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“Tyler, put those down.”
“Why is Noah locked in the basement?”
“I need to make a phone call.”
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“The police?”
“Yes.”
Tyler stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.
I opened an old photo album and pulled out a picture of Michael wearing the same silver pendant.
I handed it to Tyler.
“Look at his neck.”
Tyler stared at the photograph, then toward the basement.
