Chapter 10: The Decree

Gabe texted me at six the next morning.

"Keep the truck. The yard owner gave me a ride. I'm all right."

Then, a minute later: "Are you?"

I looked at the two words on my screen for a long time and didn't answer.

The three Prescotts had spent the night at a friend's house across the bay.

Kendra stayed.

At eight she knocked on the primary door with a tray of eggs and a sweet, red-eyed smile.

"I made breakfast, honey," she said. "I wanted to say thank you for being so kind when I told you."

"Of course," I said.

"I'm going to take a long shower. My nerves are a mess."

She went down the hall, and I heard the bathroom door close and the water start.

I stood in the primary doorway and listened to the water run.

Then I walked into the guest room.

Her two gray suitcases lay open on the floor, with everything folded.

I went through them quickly. There were dresses, a yoga mat, a rolled-up pair of leggings, and a worn flannel shirt too large for her.

The flannel smelled of cedar.

I put it back.

At the bottom of the second suitcase, the lining was thicker on one side than the other.

I pressed it with my thumb and felt paper.

The seam had been slit and sewn shut again with white thread. I tore through the stitching with my nails.

Inside was a plastic sleeve, and inside the sleeve was a folder.

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