But before I could lift it, Melissa shouted from the side gate.
“Phoebe, stop!”
Her voice cracked across the yard.
I pulled the panel upward.
Beneath it was a black canvas bag.
It was wedged beneath the roof, with one strap looped around a wooden beam to keep it from sliding.
It was far too large to belong inside a children’s playhouse.
The zipper was partially open.
Melissa reached the playhouse just as I dragged the bag free.
“Give it to me,” she said.
She was breathing heavily.
All the color had drained from her face.
I jumped down from the bench and held the bag tightly against my chest.
“Stay away from me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
She took a step toward me.
I stepped backward.
Through the kitchen window, I saw Ethan watching us.
His small face was pressed against the glass.
“Go inside, Ethan!” I shouted.
