Chapter 6

Miss Doreen’s truck came back at eight thirty-five. This time, she wasn’t alone.

I saw the headlights sweep across the kitchen window. Two vehicles. Doreen’s old Ford and a newer pickup with a selectboard sticker on the back.

I dragged myself to the front door and threw it open.

Doreen stood on the stoop with a flashlight. Behind her, Vern Cutler stepped out of the pickup. He was a big man with a red face and a heavy coat. He looked annoyed.

“Hannah?” Doreen said. “What happened to your hand?”

I looked down. My knuckles were still bleeding. My wrist was swelling. I hadn’t noticed.

“Kyle,” I said. “He locked me in the pantry. He’s been stealing from the church. He’s been starving Eli.”

Vern’s expression didn’t change. “That’s a serious accusation, young lady.”

“It’s true.”

Kyle appeared in the doorway behind me. He’d straightened his collar. His smile was back.

“Miss Doreen, Vern, I’m so sorry,” he said. “She’s been having episodes. The pregnancy. I tried to keep it quiet.”

“She’s bleeding,” Doreen said.

“She fell. The pantry steps are icy.”

I turned to face him. “You burned the ledger. But you forgot the carbon copy.”

Kyle’s smile flickered. “What carbon copy?”

“The one I hid in Eli’s wheelchair.”

For a second, no one moved. Then Vern laughed. A short, ugly sound.

“This is a family matter,” he said. “Let’s not make a scene in front of the whole town.”

But Doreen was already walking past me, into the house. “Where’s Eli?”

I led her to his room. Eli was in his bed. His wheelchair was overturned. His tablet was on the floor, screen cracked. The feeding tube alarm was beeping steadily.

Doreen knelt beside the bed. She touched Eli’s hand. He blinked at her. Slow. Deliberate.

“He’s starving,” I said. “Look at his trays.”

Three untouched trays sat on the dresser. Kyle had been bringing them in and taking them out full.

Doreen’s face went pale. “Kyle. Is this true?”

Kyle stepped into the room. His mask was cracking. “She’s lying. She’s trying to turn everyone against me.”

“The carbon copy,” I said. “It’s in the wheelchair battery.”

Vern stepped forward. “This is nonsense. We should call the sheriff and let them sort it out.”

“I already did,” Doreen said.

We all turned. She held up her phone. “I called on the way over. They’re five minutes out.”

Kyle’s face went white. He looked at Vern. Vern looked at him. Something passed between them. Something old and ugly.

“You said you’d handle it,” Kyle whispered.

“Shut up,” Vern said.

Eli’s tablet, cracked but still working, lit up on the floor. The screen showed a recording. Kyle’s voice. Then Vern’s voice.

“You get your brother to sign the trust over, or I go to the sheriff about that little loan application.”

Vern stared at the tablet. Then he looked at me. “You did this.”

“No,” I said. “Eli did.”