“What was he looking at?”
“The space behind the drywall. He kept moving insulation around.”
“Did you ask him?”
“He said it was electrical.”
Maddie shook her head.
“But it didn’t look like he was checking wires.”
“What did it look like?”
“Like he knew something was supposed to be there.”
Then she hesitated.
“There’s more.”
“Tell me.”
“He found something.”
I sat straighter.
“What?”
“I couldn’t see it. It was small.”
“What did he do with it?”
“Put it in his pocket.”
My heart started beating faster.
“And then?”
“He saw me watching.”
She looked down.
“He told me to go back upstairs.”
Then she added,
“Later he told me not to tell you about the flashlight.”
“Why?”
“He said it would upset you.”
She looked guilty.
“I didn’t want to get him in trouble.”
“Maddie, look at me.”
She did.
“You told me now.”
“Yes.”
“That matters.”
She nodded.
“You always tell me doing the right thing can be hard.”
“I do.”
“Not telling you felt wrong.”
“You made the right choice.”
After she went upstairs, I sat alone for several minutes.
Brian had been searching inside the wall.
He had found something.
He had hidden it in his pocket.
And he had asked our daughter not to tell me.
I went downstairs.
Brian was putting tools back into the cabinet when he heard me.
“Hey. I was about to come upstairs.”
“Brian.”
He turned.
“Maddie told me.”
His body went still.
“She told me about the flashlight.”
Silence.
FULL STORY on the next page.