The Four Boys at the Restaurant Sink
“Children hear everything.”
“We hear everything,” Cormac confirmed proudly.
I crouched down to his level.
“We got a few answers.”
“Were they good ones?”
I thought about the forged letter, the intercepted email, the missing photograph, the notebook nobody could find.
“I think they’re pointing us somewhere good.”
He accepted that, then handed me a cushion.