I heard footsteps and looked up.
Trudy was walking toward me, her face set in that expression I was learning meant she’d made up her mind about something, and I could either get on board or get out of the way.
She stopped beside the table, her eyes dropping to the journal before lifting to my face.
“Stephen.”
Just my name. Quiet. Careful.
I tried to answer and couldn’t. My throat had closed up.
Her expression shifted, not to pity, thank Christ, but to something sharper. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition. Like she’d seen this kind of pain before and knew what it looked like.
“What happened?” she asked.
I looked down at the journal, then back up at her. “She killed him.”
Trudy went still. “Who?”
“Titan Ward.” My voice sounded flat. Dead. “She walked into his room and killed him and his wife while they were asleep.”
Trudy’s face went pale. “Jesus.”
“His sons planned it,” I continued, the words coming faster now, like a dam breaking. “They told her what to do. How to do it. How to make it look like something else. And she did it. Then she ran. Took Grace and disappeared.”
“Stephen—”
Trudy glanced toward the counter, then back at me. Her voice dropped. “You need to come with me.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“And I said you’re not.” She reached down and put her hand over mine where it was gripping the edge of the journal. “Come with me before you lose it in front of everyone.”
That got through. Not because I cared what strangers thought, but because she was right. I was about two secondsfrom losing my shit and doing it in the middle of the bakery would only make things worse.
I closed the journal, shoved it under my arm, and stood. My legs felt unsteady, but I made them work.
Trudy didn’t touch me again until we were behind the counter, then she led me through the swinging doors into the kitchen. The heat back here was thick, the air heavy with sugar and yeast. Pati was pulling a tray of muffins from the oven, but when she saw my face, whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips.
“Watch the front,” Trudy said.
Pati nodded and left without a word.
The door swung shut behind her, and the silence that followed felt like pressure against my skull.
Trudy turned to face me, arms crossed. “Talk.”
I stared at her. “What do you want me to say?”
“Whatever you need to.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start with what’s making you look like you want to put your fist through my wall.”
