The motel room felt smaller the morning after we listened to the cassette because none of us had slept very much and although the recording had answered questions I had carried for years it had created even more that refused to leave my mind.
My mother’s final words echoed through my thoughts.
If you’re hearing this, I failed.
Then came the reply.
No…you delayed us.
Not him. Us.
I stood behind the window watching fresh snow settled across the parking lot while Casey carried the cassette recorder from the table to his laptop.
He had spent half the night gathering every piece of audio software he owned and the collection of cables now stretched across the room between computers, speakers and portable hard drives.
Drake walked out of the small kitchenette carrying two cups of cof
