A door at the back of the garage opened, and Gordon stepped out in a paint-spattered shirt, holding a roller. His face went from shock to panic. “Bev? You weren’t supposed to see this yet.” Behind him, I glimpsed a hallway, and my breath caught. The floor was the same faded green linoleum I remembered from my girlhood. I had never mentioned that to him. Then tires crunched on the gravel behind me.

I turned and saw Nathan’s truck skidding to a stop at the gate, with Paige gripping the dashboard. He jumped out and marched toward us, holding up his phone. “I knew it! I tracked your phone, Mama! Get away from him!” Gordon set down the roller and said quietly, “Son, before you say another word, please look at the kitchen.” Nathan pushed past him, stopped in the doorway, and went completely silent.