I BOLT UPRIGHT, BREATHING hard. Dull morning light creeps in through the blinds and the shadowed wall is at once familiar and unfamiliar. Home. My old home. Mom and Dad’s place. It’s Saturday and I have nowhere to be.
No, wait. The police are coming. I have to get moving. Sickness churns inside my belly as a fleeting thought I’d had before falling asleep comes back to me: I should tell Detective Bryce about the break-in. I call her number. It goes straight to voicemail. Before I can change my mind, I leave a brief message and my contact number.
I climb out of bed and drag myself into the shower. Twenty minutes later, I haul myself into my car. Mom and Dad come out to see me off. “I’ll pick up a coffee on the way,” I tell Mom. I stare out over their perfectly tended front yard.
“Will Sam
