Daddy.”
The word came out of Noah like a breath that had been trapped inside him for years.
For one second, nobody moved.
The machines kept beeping. The detective’s hand stayed frozen around the tiny camera. My mother stood near the foot of the bed with her mouth open, all the color drained from her face. Madison had stopped screaming, but her eyes were wide and wet and wild, fixed on Noah like he had just dragged a corpse into the room.
I leaned closer to my son.
“Noah,” I whispered. “What did you say?”
His swollen eyelids trembled. His fingers curled weakly against the bedsheet.
“Daddy,” he breathed again. “In the shed.”
The room turned to ice.
My ex-husband, Daniel, was supposed to be overseas.
Stationed in Germany. That was what he had told me. That was what every email, every short video call, every stamped document from the base seemed to confirm.
