different.
“Someone came to the hotel this morning,” she said.
Brandon fell silent.
“The man I heard earlier.”
Still nothing.
“Who was he?”
“Go back to your parents’ house.”
“I’m already at my parents’.”
“Stay there.”
Rachel straightened in her chair.
“Why?”
“Keep the kids there tonight.”
For the first time that entire day, Brandon sounded like her husband again.
Not the dismissive man who had left her harvesting corn.
Not the man who had taken money from their son.
Not the man connected to documents created in her name.
He sounded genuinely terrified.
“Brandon,” Rachel said carefully, “what have you gotten involved in?”
A knock came through his side of the call.
Three firm knocks.
Brandon suddenly went quiet.
Rachel heard him whisper:
“Oh God.”
Then came another voice.
A man.
Very close.
“Brandon. Open the door.”
Rachel stood up.
“Who is that?”
“Rachel, listen to me.”
The knocking
