I thought of Tyler standing in the airport.
His trembling hands.
His whispered promise.
Just wait for me.
“Margaret, I need to know whether my son is safe.”
Her voice softened.
“So do I.”
Three days passed without a word from Tyler.
I called Harrison repeatedly.
He ignored every call.
I sent Tyler messages telling him I loved him, that I wasn’t angry, and that he could tell me anything.
Nothing.
On the fourth evening, a message finally appeared.
It was from an unfamiliar number.
Mom, I’m okay. Dad checks my phone. I can’t call you. Please don’t do anything until I tell you. He knows about the card.
I read it again and again.
Then another message arrived.
He thinks Grandpa’s evidence is gone. It’s not. I found the original.
My breath caught.
Where are you? I typed.
The response came almost immediately.
