I looked through the window again. Wendy’s phone rang. She answered, listened, then smiled. “We have it.”
Arthur immediately started gathering the photographs. But Fiona suddenly turned toward the window.
She saw me.
For one terrible second, neither of us moved. Then my seven-year-old daughter did something I never expected.
She shook her head desperately. Don’t come inside.
And behind Arthur, a door opened.
Jessi walked into the room.
My wife wasn’t shocked to see her supposedly dead father. She hugged him.
