He leaned forward as much as the straps allowed.
“Mom and Dad said even the police can’t know.”
I laughed.
“What are those two doing now?”
But Noah looked completely serious.
“It’s in the garage.”
“What’s in the garage?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you. Dad said nobody can know until it’s ready.”
I shook my head.
Noah had never been good at keeping surprises.
One Christmas, he announced the contents of nearly every wrapped present before breakfast.
“Did Dad say anything else?”
Noah picked at the strap across his chest.
“Mom said, ‘What are we going to do if she finds out?’”
My smile disappeared.
“Who is she?”
He pointed directly at me.
“You.”
My hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
My daughter Emma liked to joke that I could turn the smallest suspicious detail into a full investigation before anyone finished explaining.
