“Yes, we’ve taken a hit financially and our town’s reputation has been dragged through the mud since the murder. Trust me, I want to punch this bitch as much as the rest of you for what she’s said. But…” She pulled her shoulders back, her head high. “There is some truth to some of these claims. This town was rocked by a brutal murder. And it wasn’t properly investigated.” She stared at the doorway where Nolan stood perfectly still.
“The details don’t add up. We understand that the local authorities were under a lot of pressure”—she looked at Gabe—“to solve Will’s murder and wrap things up neatly. But maybe the internet is right. Maybe it’s a little too neat…”
All around the room, people shifted, but they were all focused intently on her.
“One young man is dead,” she said softly. “And another is about to lose his life to prison. My brother is innocent. And as much as I hate WanderBetch, I’m thankful she’s shining a light on this bullshit investigation.”
She handed the microphone back to Gabe and stalked out of the room, brushing right past a stunned Nolan and out the door.
The exterior door slammed shut, and the room erupted into chaos.
Marty shook his head. “It was too rushed.”
“Why was the FBI here?” Clem asked.
“We should still be looking at that Louisa up at Sugar Moon. She’s dirty.”
Ned, the postman, grunted. “I always thought there was something fishy about that story.”
Dread washed over me. The doubt spreading through the room could be dangerous. Because once doubt took hold, it didn’t stay contained, especially where public safety was concerned.
The kids’ laughter on Halloween still echoed in my ears. We’d all fiercely embraced them. And now this welcoming, friendly community was trembling under the weight of scrutiny and judgment.
Sitting in this room, with Celine’s warm hand in mine, as doubt and anger swirled around us, it hit me.
This wasn’t about a TikTok video.
This was about fear and its ability to take over and change the fabric of this place.
My head spun. This town had been a powder keg for six months, and Frankie Dunne, with the help of some influencer on TikTok, had just lit a match.
Chapter 37
Celine
My thoughts raced as I cleaned up the kitchen, sorting homework and mail and sweeping up half-built Lego structures that I’d absolutely step on if left on the floor. The kids were upstairs, asleep or reading. We’d reviewed the plan for tomorrow several times. I felt guilty, but I didn’t have a choice. There was no way I’d drag them into a prison.
My throat tightened. I’d have to see him tomorrow. Come face-to-face with my ex-husband.
I was different now. I’d grown and healed. But I couldn’t heal what he’d done. Not fully. Not ever. Especially for my kids.
Ellie was hypervigilant and wary.
Maggie threw herself into distractions to avoid reality.
And Julian. I’d just gotten him sleeping in his own room. He was starting to get comfortable here.
I wished there was a way to go back. To intervene beforeall the hurt. Before the kids had to see what they saw and hear what they heard.
Nausea roiled in my gut.
I stared at my hands. Small and dainty, with a few scars. Short nails and raggedly cuticles.
I’d spotted a nail salon in town, but I had neither the time nor the funds for a manicure today. So rather than perseverating about tomorrow any longer, I snagged Ellie’s nail supplies, which now took up a medium sized Rubbermaid bucket, from the bathroom. While she favored black and other dark colors, there was a decent selection, plus the lamp thing that dried them.
Sitting at the table, I got the supplies ready. Cut and filed.
It gave me something to focus on. Something small and manageable.
