The morning after the confrontation did not begin with screaming.
That would have been easier.
Instead, Bailey Falls woke slowly, almost normally, as though the town had not spent the previous night dragging secrets out of people who had buried them for decades.
The sky was pale when Ezra stepped back into the house.
Charity was still outside.
She hadn't moved.
She stood exactly where he'd left her, one hand pressed against her mouth, tears drying coldly against her cheeks.
Inside, the house was quiet.
Harold was awake.
He had been awake for most of the night.
He sat at the edge of the bed he shared with Charity, elbows resting against his knees, staring at the floor.
He had heard her come back inside.
He had heard her footsteps.
He had heard the door close.
But he hadn't asked where she'd been.
Somewhere in the deepest part of him, he already knew.
Something had happened between Charity and Ezra.
Something that had left her shaken.
