Then I found a folded copy of the original accident report.
Someone had underlined several sentences in red ink.
The vehicle had been identified through its registration and belongings recovered from the wreck.
The report also noted that the occupants’ identities had not been independently confirmed at the scene.
I stared at those words.
“But they told me…”
“I know,” Romy whispered. “Keep looking.”
Near the bottom of the box was an envelope addressed to Miles.
It had been mailed from another state.
I glanced at the postmark.
My heart began pounding.
The date was almost three months after Silas and Bree’s funeral.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
*Dear Miles,*
*We know you’re angry and confused. Please believe that your mom and I are safe. Things got complicated, and we can’t come home yet.*
*Take care of your brothers and sisters. Grandma will look after everyone until we can get things straightened out.*
