Footsteps hurried up the wooden steps of the front porch.

The doorbell rang, loud and insistent.

Thomas froze, his hand still stretched out toward Caroline’s phone.

I stood up from my chair.

“That will be Rebecca,” I said.

I walked down the short hallway, my slippers quiet on the hardwood floor.

The brass doorknob was cold under my hand.

I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the heavy oak door open.

Rebecca stood on the porch, her coat collar turned up against the chilly autumn wind.

Her face was pale, and she held a thick, blue expanding folder tightly against her chest.

“Thank you for coming, Rebecca,” I said, stepping back to let her in.

She nodded, her eyes rimmed with red, and stepped into the warm hallway.

“I had to,” she whispered, shaking off the cold. “I couldn’t let him lie to her anymore.”

I led her into the living room, where Thomas and Caroline were still positioned like two chess pieces.

Thomas had lowered his hand, but his fingers were twitching against his thigh.

“Rebecca,” Thomas said, his voice dropping an octave. “What are you doing here?”