Chapter 7 - The Outdoor-Supply Store
I stared at the black screen. Naomi opened another folder. "Dad's old phone was still logged into the same account as the replacement one, Mom." She showed me a saved location — a small outdoor-supply store, miles off Grant's usual route to the marina. Timestamp: Sunday morning. The day they disappeared.
"Why would he go there?"
She shook her head. "I don't know."
So we went.
An older employee studied the last photograph I'd ever taken of them, in our driveway. He stared at the boys, then pointed. "These three."
My heart jumped. "You remember them?"
"Hard not to. They argued for ten minutes over whistle colors."
"Whistles?"
"Orange emergency whistles. Your husband bought one for each boy."
That sounded exactly like Grant. Then the man added, "And another adult flotation vest."
May you like
I frowned. "He already had one."
The employee shrugged. "Said his brother might meet them."
