The dispatcher told me officers were only a few minutes away.
“Stay inside,” she instructed.
“Do not touch anything.”
I promised I wouldn’t.
I ended the call and pressed the phone against my chest.
Through the kitchen window, I could still see part of Melissa’s car.
She hadn’t moved.
Then Ethan quietly tugged on my sleeve.
“Mom…”
I looked down.
His face had gone pale.
He was staring toward the backyard.
“Melissa said I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
My stomach dropped.
I crouched down in front of him.
“What weren’t you supposed to tell me?”
He pointed toward the old wooden playhouse.
The playhouse had been in our yard since Ethan was four.
My brother had built it from cedar boards, complete with a small window, a crooked bench, and a roof painted dark green.
Ethan hardly used it anymore.
“For a moment, I couldn’t move.
