His name was Samuel Ellis, a retired shipyard engineer who had worked for my father for thirty years. He had been helping Tobias investigate our parents’ deaths.
While I changed, Samuel prepared tea.
I stared at the steaming cup.
“I’m not drinking anything,” I said.
He didn’t seem offended.
“Fair enough.”
He placed a sealed bottle of water beside me instead.
Tobias sat across from me, his legs stretched out beneath the table. Seeing him like that still felt impossible.
“Tell me about the milk,” I said.
He exchanged a look with Samuel.
“What about it?”
“Garrett made me drink warm milk almost every night. He said it helped me sleep. Sometimes I woke up groggy the next morning. Sometimes I couldn’t remember conversations from the previous evening.”
Tobias’s expression changed.
“How long has that been happening?”
“Maybe two years. At first, I thought I was exhausted. Then I blamed stress.”
