The brass lock dropped to the floor and the closet door swung open. Inside were cardboard boxes, a small gray safe, and a thick folder with my name written across the tab in Brandon’s handwriting. Officer Cole lifted it and read the first page in silence, and his jaw tightened. “Ma’am, these are loan applications,” he said quietly. “Your signature is on every one.” I had never signed a single page of them.

On the phone, Brandon had gone completely silent. Then a heavy knock shook the front door. On the doorbell camera screen, a large man in a dark jacket stood on the porch holding an envelope. “Brandon Rowe lives here,” he called. “Tell him Vince is done waiting.” Poppy gripped the paramedic’s shoulder and whispered, “That’s the man who said the babysitter was upstairs.” Officer Cole put his hand on his belt.