The clock read 1:47 a.m. as I lay perfectly still in the dark, my breaths slow and measured, feigning the deep slumber Lydia believed me to be in. The silence was heavy, punctuated only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the rhythmic ticking of the clock hanging in the kitchen. It was the kind of quiet that makes every little sound feel like a thunderclap.
I heard her voice, low and conspiratorial, through the closed bathroom door. “4723,” she whispered, giving life to the numbers that unlocked more than just my bank account. “That’s the main card. The blue one in his wallet. Cascade Federal Credit Union.”
Her mother’s voice crackled softly through the speaker, sharp and assured. “You’re absolutely sure he’s asleep?”
