“What did you discover?” David asked, his voice flat.

I looked at my son, wanting him to feel the same wonder I had felt.

“Harold’s wife, Margaret,” I began, my voice steady.

“She grew up in Oakhaven.”

David did not blink.

“So?” he said.

“Thomas grew up there too, David,” I explained.

“They went to the same high school at the same time.”

“They probably knew each other.”

Rachel gasped softly, her hand going to her mouth.

“Oh, Mom,” she whispered. “That is amazing.”

But David’s expression did not soften.

Instead, a dark shadow passed over his face, his jaw clenching tightly.

He stepped away from the window, his boots heavy on the linoleum.

“Oakhaven is a tiny town, Mom,” David said, his voice dropping an octave.

“Everyone knows that.”

“Yes,” I said. “That is why it is so incredible.”

David leaned against the kitchen counter, staring down at me.

“Is it?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Or is it just very convenient?”

I stared at my son, the warmth of the afternoon completely fading from my bones.

“Convenient?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.