“Adam, are you sure?”
“Look at her handwriting, Dad. That’s Mom’s. I know it is.”
Ethan came down the stairs behind me, drawn by the noise.
“What’s going on down here? You both look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Look at her handwriting, Dad. That’s Mom’s.”
“Your brother found a disc,” I whispered. “Your mother left it. The night before.”
Ethan’s face drained of color.
“A disc? Dad, do we even have anything that plays those anymore?”
“The old laptop in the closet upstairs. Go get it. Quickly.”
He bolted up the stairs. Adam stayed beside me, his shoulder pressed against mine like he did when he was a little boy afraid of thunder.
“Dad, what if it’s something bad?”
“Your mother left it. The night before.”
“Then we face it together.”
“Twenty years, Dad. Twenty years and she hid this here?”
“I don’t know, son. I don’t know anything anymore.”
Ethan returned with the laptop. My hands shook so badly I could barely slide the disc into the drive.
“Let me, Dad,” Ethan said gently. “Sit down. Please.”
I sat on an overturned crate. The screen flickered. Then Laura appeared, alive, breathing, her eyes red from crying.
“Then we face it together.”
“Oh my God,” Adam whispered. “Mom…”
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