After emerging from the shower, all clean from the blood and muck that had been clinging to my skin, I changed into a fresh pair of clothes and headed down. No one had come to check on me. This was not like Mom.
As I headed downstairs, I peeked into Elma’s room to see if she was sleeping. Her bed was made and there was no one in there. Had someone kidn*pped her? That could be the only explanation for why she wasn’t in her bed at seven in the morning.
Mom was sitting at the dining table. There were three coffee cups on the table. Elma sat across from Mom. Sitting with his back to me, facing Elma and Mom, was a man with gray hair.
“Mom? Who is this?” I asked.
She could only look at me with her face wet with tears. She struggled to say something, but no words came out.
“Elm?” I stuttered
