Chapter 1
The marble foyer remained deathly silent, save for the faint hum of the antique clock ticking against the mahogany wall. Arthur stared down at his trembling son, his charcoal grey suit jacket feeling suddenly restrictive as the weight of Noah's words sank in.
"Noah, look at me," Arthur whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he knelt beside the spilled bucket of dirt and orange plastic debris. "What did you just say about your mother?"
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Noah pressed his small face tightly against Clara’s burgundy apron, his tiny shoulders shaking with suppressed terror. He refused to look toward the dark hallway where his grandmother’s footsteps had just faded away.
Clara kept her hands gently resting on the boy’s back, feeling the frantic, rapid beat of his little heart beneath his light blue shirt. She cast a cautious glance toward the polished brass stand holding the small American flag nearby.
