Noah fixed the black ladder, and for a horrible moment he felt like a seven-year-old boy.
Expecting.
To listen.
I hope someone says it was all a mistake.
A minute passed.
Then two.
Then three.
Nobody was speaking.
Even the neighbors behind the fence remained silent.
Finally, Detective Bennett’s voice rose from below.
Low.
Tremblant.
Don’t let the family go here.
Margaret collapsed into Daniel’s arms.
Noah had nothing to do with it.
I already understood.
“Don’t touch anything else.
Twenty minutes later, the police cars were outside the house.
When Detective Claire Bennett entered Harold’s room, everything changed.
It was no longer the house of an old man.
It was a crime scene.
Then Margaret came.
She saw the pink fabric and froze.
She didn’t scream.
This silence was worse than nothing.
“It’s Lily’s,” she murmured. “I sewed those flowers for her.”
A few hours later, an officer found a brown notebook hidden in an old pillowcase.
Detective Bennett opened it.
Her face changed.
Then he looked towards the back window.
“There’s a delivery in the yard,” he said.
At midnight, the police forced the lock.
Inside the shed, under wooden planks, they found a hidden door.
And underneath…
