At Eleven, She Moved In. At Six, I Changed The Locks.

cheap gold-plated thing shaped like a knot. I picked it up, looked at it, dropped it in the junk drawer.

Then I went upstairs.

The guest room smelled like perfume and stress.

One drawer hung open.

A damp towel lay on the bedspread.

And on the nightstand, under the lamp, was one sheet of paper they’d missed.

Not from Madison’s list.

A credit card statement.continue reading …