It took him the better part of an hour, one agonizing letter at a time, and what he spelled was a chain: WARRICK.

DOOR.

SCREAMS.

HELVI.

PHONE.

ROWENA.

BLACK BAGS.

He had heard all of it from the bottom of the stairs.

He had been down there in the dark, trapped in a body that would not carry him up to help, listening to the whole thing happen over his head.

I have never in my life seen anything as brave and as broken as my father spelling out that chain of words, and I hope I never do again.