Colleen Hale.
I photographed every page. Forty-one pictures. Then I closed the panel, locked the cottage behind me, and sat on my own back steps until the sky started turning gray.
My son had spent four days alone in this house. And the whole time, someone had been using my name to rob people.
Part 4: The Compartment Is Empty
On Saturday, I didn’t call anyone. I wanted one normal day with Mason before everything broke open.
We went to Kerbey Lane for pancakes. We bought him six new shirts at Target because he’d outgrown half of what was in his drawers and nobody had noticed. Me included. We saw a terrible movie and both laughed at the same wrong moments. We were gone almost seven hours.
On Sunday at 7 a.m., I called Sandra Whitlock.
Sandra had handled my business contracts for nine years. She listened without interrupting, then said, “Russell, do not go back into that cottage. Do not text your wife. Send me every photo, right now, and get Mason somewhere safe.”
