For two decades, I mourned my missing wife and daughters, until my son tore open a basement wall and found the chilling truth she hid from me.
“I’m sorry it took me this long.”
I rushed down the basement stairs two at a time, my heart pounding against my ribs.
“Adam? What is it? What happened?”
He stood frozen near the back wall, where a wooden panel hung crooked. In his trembling hands was a dusty plastic case.
“Dad… I found this behind the panel. The one Mom always told you not to touch, remember?”
“Let me see it.”
He held it out like it might burn him.
