the drive back up the mountain, she sat rigidly in the passenger seat, hands locked together in her lap.
I kept asking.
“Mom, what did they find?”
She wouldn’t answer.
“Whatever it is, just tell me.”
Nothing.
Then Dad asked from the back seat,
“What’s happening?”
Mom finally turned slightly.
“Arthur.”
Her voice cracked.
“They found it.”
Dad went silent.
“Under the mattress,” she whispered. “They found it.”
I looked into the rearview mirror.
My father’s face had lost all color.
That was when I understood.
Both of them knew.
