It was a small key.
Attached to it was a faded paper tag.
I stared at the handwriting.
I knew it immediately.
It was my son’s.
The tag contained only three words:
“For the truth.”
My stomach tightened.
“Grace,” I whispered, “did anyone else know about this?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the box again.
For the first time, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.
There was a second compartment underneath the documents.
It had been carefully hidden beneath a false wooden panel.
My hands trembled as I lifted it.
Inside was a small envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Mom.
I couldn’t breathe.
Daniel had written it.
Ten years ago.
Before he died.
I opened the envelope with shaking fingers.
Inside was a single handwritten letter.
The first line made my heart stop.
“Mom, if you’re reading this, something has gone terribly wrong.”
