“Mom didn’t have to argue with the Hartwell County building code,” Colette said, and her eyes went soft the way they always did when she spoke of Faye.

Around eight, headlights swung through the dark trees and washed across our front room.

We both went still — that particular stillness the two of us still fell into when a car we weren’t expecting came up the gravel after dark.

Some marks a betrayal leaves do not ever fully sand out.

I pulled Faye’s green raincoat off its hook, stepped onto the porch, and watched a dark luxury sedan roll to a stop at the edge of the drive.

Chapter 15 — Four Million Dollars