Until I found the shovel.
I carried it outside while Noah stood at the back door, watching every step I took.
His eyes never left the shovel.
I set it on the patio table and brushed dirt from the blade with an old towel.
Most of it crumbled away.
Something small struck the concrete with a metallic click.
I frowned.
A silver key lay beside the shovel.
A faded paper tag had been tied to it with thin string.
Four words were written in Ethan’s unmistakable handwriting.
“Dig where Noah knows.”
I picked up the key.
My fingers started shaking.
“Noah.”
He didn’t answer.
I looked toward the doorway.
He was gone.
I found him sitting on his bed with his knees pulled against his chest.
