"Hold on..." Barnaby's words came out shaky.
Louise glanced up at him, watching bewilderment creep across his features like spilled ink. His forehead creased into deep lines as he stared at the photos, like his mind was fighting to connect the dots.
The pictures trembled in his grip. His eyes devoured every detail while his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He looked completely lost.
"Why are there baby photos of Irvin scattered on the floor?"
His voice finally broke through, picture raised high.
Confusion laced every word. He grabbed another photo, squinting like that might crack the code. Then he went stone-still. His hand froze mid-air, color draining from his face.
"This picture looks—" He stopped himself short.
From her perch on the bed's edge, Louise released a bitter laugh. Not the happy kind—the kind that bubbles up when your heart's about to explode and nowhere else for the feeling to go.
