[Georgia 03] Fallen

devices off the Internet. Unless Faith went around removing switch plates and taking apart the phones, there was no telling whether or not someone was listening. And the minute she started acting paranoid around her family, they would know that something was wrong. Not to mention the Atlanta detectives, who were watching her every move.
    Finally, she heard the downstairs toilet flush. A few seconds later, the front door opened and closed. Zeke was probably going for a run, or maybe the detectives had decided to get their fresh air in the front yard instead of the back.
    Faith’s hamstrings vibrated with pain as she put her feet on the floor. She’d been curled up for so long that her body was stiff. Other than checking on Emma, she hadn’t dared walk around last night for fear of Zeke coming upstairs to ask her what the hell she was doing. The house was old, the floorboards were squeaky, and her brother was a light sleeper.
    She started with her chest of drawers, carefully opening each one, checking through her underwear and T-shirts and nightgowns to see if anything had been disturbed. Nothing looked out of place. Next, she went to the closet. Her work wardrobe consisted mostly of black suits with stretch in the pants so that she didn’t have to worry about whether or not they would button in the morning. Her maternity clothes were in a box on the lower shelf. Faith dragged over a chair and checked that the tape was still sealed. The stack of blue jeans beside it looked undisturbed. Still, she checked all the pockets, then went back to her suits and did the same.
    Nothing.
    Faith climbed back onto the chair and stretched on tiptoe to reach the top shelf, where she’d stored the box of Jeremy’s childhood memorabilia. It nearly fell on her head. She caught it at the last minute, holding her breath for fear of making too much noise. She sat on the floor with the box between her legs. The cardboard was unsealed. The tape had been peeled off months ago. While she was pregnant with Emma, Faith had been obsessed with going through Jeremy’s childhood keepsakes. It was a good thing she lived alone or someone would’ve seriously questioned her emotional stability. Just the sight of his bronzed shoes and little knitted booties had turned her into a weeping mess. His report cards. His school papers. Mother’s Day cards he’d drawn in crayon. Valentines he’d cut with his tiny blunted scissors.
    Her eyes stung as she opened the box.
    A lock of Jeremy’s hair rested on top of his twelfth-grade report card. The blue ribbon looked different. She held it up to the light. Time had faded the pastel-colored silk, giving the creases a dingy cast. The hair had darkened to a golden brown. Something felt different. She couldn’t tell whether or not the bow had been retied or if it had come loose in the box. She also couldn’t remember whether she’d stacked his report cards first grade to twelfth or the other way around. It seemed counterintuitive that the last was first, especially since the lock of hair was on top. Or maybe she was just talking herself into a frenzy when nothing was wrong.
    Faith lifted up the stack of report cards and looked underneath. His papers were still there. She saw the bronze shoes, the booties, the construction paper greeting cards he’d made in school.
    Everything seemed accounted for, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that the box had been tampered with. Had someone else gone through Jeremy’s things? Had they seen the hearts he’d drawn on a picture of Mr. Billingham, his first dog? Had they rifled through his report cards and laughed because Mrs. Thompson, his fourth-grade teacher, had called him a little angel?
    Faith closed the box. She hefted it up over her head and slid it onto the shelf. By the time she shoved the chair back in place, she was shaking with fury at the thought of some stranger’s grimy hands on her boy’s things.
    She went to Emma’s room next. The baby didn’t normally sleep through the night, but yesterday had been unusually long and tumultuous. She was still asleep when Faith checked the crib. Her throat made a clicking noise as she breathed. Faith laid a hand on her chest. Emma’s heart felt like a bird trapped under Faith’s hand. Quietly, she searched the closet, the small box of toys, the diapers and supplies.
    Nothing.
    Jeremy was still asleep, but Faith went into his room anyway. She picked up his clothes from the floor to give some pretense of