I moved the rag along the countertop, careful to get every nook and cranny of the surface. Something about the task soothed me. It always had. So many things were out of my control in my life—it had always been that way. But a good, deep clean always made me feel as if I could put my world back to rights, no matter how far it had veered off path.

I took a moment to stretch my back. The minutes seemed to slow as we got closer to four o’clock. Just ten more ticks on the clock, and I was home-free.

A throat cleared, and I turned towards the sound. “I’m sorry, we’re closed for the day—” My words cut off as I recognized the man in front of me. He was the one who had come into the store all those weeks ago and had practically run Shay over. But he looked…less disheveled. His hair was no longer greasy, and his clothes were clean.

The man twisted the ballcap in his hands. “I’m not here for a sandwich, ma’am. I, uh, I’m Dave Herbert.”

I froze at the name. How had I not recognized him when he first came in? I’d spent hours staring across a courtroom at his face. The man who had broken into our family home and terrorized my siblings all those years ago. And he was standing in front of me now. My hand slowly reached into my back pocket for the pepper spray I’d put there this morning.

“I’m takin’ it by the look on your face you remember me.”

“It would be impossible to forget the man who tried to attack my brother and sisters. Who left scars on them they’ll never be rid of.” Dumb, dumb, dumb. The last thing I needed to do was threaten someone who had a proven track record of violence. I should’ve been screaming for help. But I couldn’t resist the urge to try and make this man understand all the ways he’d hurt my family.

Instead of anger flashing across his face, I saw pain. At least I thought that’s what it was. Dave twisted his hat into a tighter spiral. “I wouldn’t have hurt them.” He sighed, continuing on, almost as if he were talking to himself. “At least, I don’t think I would’ve. But who knows when I’m messed up on that stuff?” His head came up so he could meet my gaze. “I know there’s nothing I can say to erase the pain I’ve caused, but I need you to know I’m sorry. More sorry than you’ll ever know. I’m on parole now. And I’m getting help.”

I searched his face, trying to ferret out the truth. Or the lie. “You were high when you came in here before.”