with grass stuck to his shoes.
Instead, the porch was empty.
A small brown box sat alone on the welcome mat.
There was no postage, no shipping label, and no return address.
Only four words written across the top in black marker.
“Happy Birthday, Brothers.”
My entire body went cold.
“Who is it?” Watson called from the kitchen.
“No one.”
I picked up the box.
It felt light, though something shifted inside when I moved it.
Watson stepped into the hallway and read the message.
“Maybe one of the boys
