\u201cWhat do you mean, it\u2019s not safe?\u201d<\/p>\n
He slid his phone across the table, the screen lit up with photos of something in the basement. I saw a confusing tangle of pipes, strange metal fittings, and a small box with wires attached. I didn\u2019t understand what I was looking at.<\/p>\n
\u201cSomeone did this on purpose,\u201d he said, his voice flat and cold. \u201cPack your things.\u201d<\/p>\n
Twenty minutes later, we were in his truck, driving away from the house Walter had built with his own two hands, the house I\u2019d lived in for four decades, the only home I\u2019d ever known as an adult. My phone started ringing, a shrill, insistent sound in the tense silence of the truck. Owen glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening.<\/p>\n
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