“These are serious accusations.” He spoke softly and with a slight lisp. You had to strain to hear him, which made everyone listen very carefully when he spoke. “Is there truth in this?” he said to Taured.

“Of course not. Dr. Browley can speak to Lorraine’s condition in the last couple years, as he was her physician.”

“He wasn’t,” Summer said. They all turned to look at her, but she didn’t shrink back.

“Is there someone here who can corroborate your story?” the man with the lisp asked.

Any name she gave them would result in the same thing: they’d lie to protect Taured and their standing in the community—young or old, the rules were the same. Also, any person she named might be punished later just because she mentioned them. In her own mind, she’d made the comparison to the Salem witch trials, which she’d read about on Taured’s precious internet. No matter what she said, she’d be punished, or someone else would.

“Sara,” she said desperately, despite the crushing guilt she felt. She saw the surprise on Dr. Browley’s face, then the anger. Summer knew she had crossed a line, especially after Sara had got her this far. His daughter would now be dragged before these people.

“Get the person of whom she speaks.”

He didn’t have a lisp, she realized; it was an accent.

Taured nodded at the doctor, who left the room to get his daughter. After Sara had risked everything to help her, she would be forced to take a side and the side she’d choose was obvious to Summer: blood ran thicker than water, as her dad used to say.

“Lorraine was my high school best friend,” Taured said. “She came to me for help when her husband died. Summer was only yea high...”

She looked over to see Taured measuring her adolescent self below his open palm. “She was nothing but knees and elbows and now she’s our star softball player.” He winked in her direction, like they were sharing an inside joke. Cold pinched down her spine. She was so sure she was going to be sick she swayed on her feet, lifting her palm to her mouth. She knew what he was doing and it was too late. While the men were listening to Taured, the woman’s gaze rested on Summer’s face, watching. She asked for help with her eyes and hoped that her urgency was understood. The more words she said, the deeper she fell into his trap. When Browley returned with Sara, her head was down. Summer recognized her friend’s fear in the curve of her shoulders and felt an uncertainty that made her want to run from the room. This was wrong. She was causing problems for people she cared about.

“Sara, I’m Mr. Nava. We’re going to ask you a few questions.”