“What?”
Benjamin’s eyes filled with tears.
“The night Dad died…”
He stopped.
I waited.
“The person who was supposed to be driving him to the hospital…”
He swallowed.
“…wasn’t me.”
I stared at him.
“Who was it?”
Nobody answered.
And then, from behind me, my phone began ringing.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the voicemail notification appear.
One new message.
The timestamp was eight years old.
And the caller’s name wasn’t unknown.
It was Thomas.
My husband.
The man who had
