For the first time since his death, I was grateful Thomas was gone.
Not because I wanted him gone.
But because I couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing what someone had done with his name.
Chapter Eight: The Letter Beneath the Floor
The discovery came from an ordinary mistake.
I was moving Thomas’s old desk away from the wall so the electrician could inspect an outlet.
One of the bottom drawers stuck.
When I pulled harder, a narrow wooden panel slid free behind it.
Inside was a small metal box.
No lock.
No label.
Only a folded sheet of paper taped to the lid.
Leah,
If you’ve found this, I hope it means you’ve started taking the house apart the way you used to take apart every mystery novel before reaching the ending.
I laughed through sudden tears.
Thomas knew me.
I always guessed the murderer halfway through the book.
