Five Years After My Husband
There were no high-tech gadgets, stolen goods, or dramatic secrets visible at first glance.
Paige stepped carefully into the unit and looked around.
“This just looks like somebody’s private storage.”
I walked over to the nearest plastic bin and knelt down beside it.
A strip of faded masking tape on the lid bore Brandon’s unmistakable handwriting.
“Family Records & Documents.”
A thick lump formed in my throat as I lifted the plastic lid.
The bin was full of old tax returns, home insurance policies, medical records, and family photo albums.
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