Espe was proud and private; he knew she lived in a small apartment on the south side on a modest pension, and little else.

He did not want it to be her.

But wanting a thing not to be true is not the same as evidence, and the bag was heavy every single night.

Chapter 4 — The Festival

On the day it came to a head, the bakery had been swamped — a food festival two streets over.

Espe worked without stopping, and at one point caught a whole tray of éclairs an inch before it hit the floor.