he’d hung up.
Then he said, “Because she mailed me a photograph of Chloe asleep in her crib.”
Every hair on my arms lifted.
“What?”
“After I told her she had to come home, I got a picture. Postmarked from nowhere. Chloe asleep. Taken through the nursery window. On the back she wrote, ‘They can reach the house. Don’t make me choose.’”
Maya had both hands continue reading …
