An address had been scrawled across it in his shaking hand.

The house was only a short drive from Clement’s home — the place where I had spent nearly my whole childhood.

I couldn’t refuse his final request, though every instinct I had warned me not to go.

There is a particular fear that comes when someone you have trusted your entire life tells you, with his last breath, that your life was not what you believed.

It is not the fear of a lie.

It is the fear of a floor you did not know was there giving way beneath you.