“Before I called you yesterday.”
“Why didn’t they come?”
“They are coming. Detective Alvarez asked me to gather everything before they arrived.”
A muffled sound echoed above us.
Footsteps crossed the shed floor.
Dad extinguished the lantern.
We stood in darkness.
The trapdoor creaked.
Someone had found the loose plank.
Dad placed one hand against my back and guided me toward the far wall.
The wooden door above opened.
Harold’s voice drifted down.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Dad’s breath touched my ear.
“Don’t move.”
Harold descended one step.
Then another.
The darkness swallowed him until only his shoes were visible.
He held a flashlight in one hand.
“You should have stayed in bed,” he said.
Dad stepped forward.
“You should have chosen a different profession.”
Harold froze.
The flashlight beam shook across Dad’s face.
“I can explain,” Harold said.
“No, you can’t.”
“You don’t understand what Vanessa and Grant forced me to do.”
“You gave me drugs.”
“They threatened my family.”
“You signed a statement.”
