Part 3: The Carved Star
On Wednesday night, a storm had knocked out power on our whole street.
Mason had gone looking for candles. The main house had none, so he took a flashlight across the yard to the guest cottage, where he knew Dolores kept a box of them. She’d left the back door unlocked.
The candles weren’t in the kitchen. So he checked her bedroom, where a massive walnut wardrobe stood against the wall, a piece she’d brought with her from her house in Round Rock. Near the top of the left door, there was a carved wooden star.
“I just touched it,” he said. “And something clicked.”
A panel behind the hanging coats had swung open about an inch.
He’d seen a lot of things in there. But only one he cared about.
“Mom’s medallion,” he said. “The Mary one. It’s in there, Dad.”
