SHAWNA
I closed the door gently behind me and took a shaky breath. The room felt too quiet, like it was holding its breath. Phoebe was finally asleep upstairs, her face pale and drawn, her body curled tight like she was trying to hide from the world.
I stepped into the living room, where my mother sat on the edge of the couch, fingers wrapped tightly around a cup of tea she hadn’t touched. My grandfather, my grandfather, stood by the window, having just returned from his business trip hours ago. His suitcase was still unopened.
“She told me what she could,” I said quietly.
They both looked up at once.
“She said she doesn’t know how Winnie died. But… she thinks Richard had something to do with it.”
My grandfather frowned. “She said that?”
I nodded. “She heard something. Winnie told her something. Not everything, just enough to make her scared. She didn’t say anything back then because… well, she wasn’t sure what she heard. And then when Winnie went missing…”
“She blamed herself,” my mo
