Family emergency. I’m safe. I’ll explain later.
He sent the message, stared at the screen until the reply bubble appeared, then turned his phone face down on his lap.
We ended up sitting in my rental car because neither of us had anywhere else to put the truth.
Levi sat in the passenger seat with his backpack clutched against his chest, twisting one zipper between his fingers.
“I found a box in the garage two years ago,” he said. “I was looking for a socket wrench. There was an old metal lockbox behind some paint cans. It wasn’t even locked properly.”
“What was inside?”
“Papers. A birth certificate with the name Jesse Whitaker. An old school ID. A social security card. Newspaper clippings about a missing boy.” He glanced at me. “Your family was in some of the pictures.”
