under the mattress.”
Her face went white.
Not confused.
Not surprised.
Terrified.
“Between the mattress and the box spring,” I continued.
Mom pushed her chair back so quickly it scraped across the pavement.
“We have to go.”
“Mom—”
“Now.”
I had never heard her sound like that.
“What is under the bed?”
“Get your father.”
Her voice was trembling.
“Please. We need to go home immediately.”
Dad woke up confused when I pulled the newspaper away.
Mom was already heading toward the car.
The calm afternoon disappeared in seconds.
On
