Part 25
We stood by the open window, looking down into the darkness of the backyard.
The cool night air rushed into the room, smelling of the fresh earth we had just turned over hours ago.
Down below, the shadows of the bushes looked elongated and distorted in the moonlight.
"Did you lock it, Mom?" Derek asked, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the fence.
"Yes," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "I checked it twice this morning."
Derek leaned out, inspecting the wooden sill.
There, clearly visible in the dust on the white paint, was a single, dark smudge.
It was the distinct print of a heavy boot.
Someone had been inside our home while we were sitting on the front porch enjoying the peace.
They hadn't come to attack us; they had come to look, or perhaps to leave something behind.
My gaze drifted from the window to the bed.
Sitting perfectly in the center of the neatly made quilt was a small, black velvet envelope.
It hadn't been there when I left the room.
Derek noticed it at the same time I did, his jaw tightening into a hard line.
"Don't touch it," he warned, stepping between me and the bed.
But we both knew we had to know what was inside.
The illusion of our perfect, safe life shattered into a thousand jagged pieces right there in the bedroom.
May you like
The past hadn't stayed behind us; it had followed us home, hiding in the shadows of our own sanctuary.
I reached past Derek, my fingers trembling as they touched the cold fabric of the envelope.
