Then, two nights before Christmas, I woke shortly after midnight.
Brielle’s bed was empty.
My stomach tightened.
Voices came from downstairs.
Everett.
Brielle.
I walked quietly down the stairs and approached the living room.
The door was slightly open.
Then I heard Everett whisper:
“Quickly. We need to finish before your mother comes downstairs.”
I grabbed my phone and pushed open the door.
Then stopped.
