“I was there when it happened.”
Noah’s face changed.
“You knew?”
Michael nodded.
“I knew.”
“You let them do it?”
“No.”
Michael’s voice broke.
“I tried to stop them.”
Noah stared at him.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because if you knew, they would know you remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
Michael didn’t answer.
Victor stepped closer.
“The device isn’t the evidence.”
He pointed at Noah.
“Your memory is.”
Noah looked confused.
“What memory?”
Victor whispered:
“The night your grandmother was killed.”
The room went silent.
I stared at my son.
He had been a baby.
He couldn’t possibly remember that night.
Could he?
Then Noah suddenly grabbed his head.
His breathing became rapid.
“Mom…”
I rushed toward him.
“What is it?”
He closed his eyes.
“I remember something.”
Michael stepped forward.
“What?”
Noah looked at him.
“I remember a woman screaming.”
Victor’s face went pale.
Noah continued.
“I remember a man standing over her.”
