The Note Under the Table
No small voice from the hallway.
They had done what I very nearly did — reached for the calm explanation, drunk the tea, trusted the husband who looked so worried when the ambulance took its time.
The only difference between their story and mine, the entire difference, was an eleven-year-old boy who could not sleep on a Thursday night and did not talk himself out of what he heard.
Chapter 10 — The Vial and the Timeline