The plumber I hired to fix a leak in my detached garage called me in a voice so careful it raised the hair on my arms. “Sir, I need you to come home right now. There’s a hidden room behind your storage shelves, and somebody’s been living in it.” My wife was out of town. She had the only key to that side of the garage. My younger brother had been missing for two years.
The plumber called while I was halfway through shrimp and grits at lunch with my friend Gerald. “Walter,” he said, and right away I could tell something was wrong. Ray Hutchins had worked on my house for years, and he was not a man who rattled easily. “I don’t think you want me to…
