I snatched the phone from the floor and read Vanessa’s message twice. Down the hall, the bathroom door was shut, and Kyle was groaning behind it. On the entry table sat a pharmacy bag with my name on the label, the refill I had forgotten to pick up. He had collected it for me the night before. My stomach turned cold.

Then the doorbell rang three times. I opened the door, and Vanessa stood on the porch, pale and trembling, beside a frail older woman leaning on a cane. “Mrs. Dalton,” Vanessa whispered, “he was supposed to tell you last night. This is my mother, Diane, and he has been hiding us for two weeks.” Diane held out a faded photograph of a young Kyle cradling a newborn, and my knees almost gave out when I read the date written on the back.