I read that single sentence over and over, completely bewildered.

Paige took the paper from my hands and examined it closely.

“What photograph is this note talking about?”

“It has to be the photo from the metal box,” I said out loud.

“The picture of Brandon standing beside our car with our three boys.”

“No, look closely at how this is written,” Paige pointed out, her voice dropping.

“It says outright that the man in that photograph is NOT Brandon.”

“How could that possibly be true?” I argued weakly.