Chapter 2: The Voice on the Phone

Before the guesses could pile up, I called the restaurant. A young employee apologized and offered to replace the entire order. Then I described the object.

The line went silent.

“Sir,” she finally said, “I need to get my manager.”

A minute later, a man came on the phone. His first word froze me.

“Thomas?”

I hadn’t heard my brother Michael’s voice in almost three years.

“What are you doing there?” I asked.

“Helping a friend manage the place for a few weeks.” He sounded nervous. “I saw your name and address on the order.”

I looked at the blackened object again. “You put this in the box?”

“Yes.”

Laura quietly moved the pizza away and folded her arms.

“Why would you send me a burned piece of junk?” I demanded.

Michael exhaled slowly. “Because I’ve tried writing to you a dozen times, and I never mailed the letters. When I saw your order, I thought maybe God was giving me one more chance.”

“A chance to do what?”

“Tell you what that object really is.”

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