Katie held his stare. He could see her mind spinning, see her putting pieces together. She’d embraced his world, or as much as she could at sixteen. Her psychology class was her favorite, she said, and she’d asked for psych books and true-crime novels for Christmas. Sometimes she’d blurt out questions about a serial killer or an unsolved murder in the middle of driving to school in the morning. Most days, he was torn between pride and terror for her. She was tiptoeing around the edges of shadows, trying to hold a candle against the darkness. There were things he knew that lived inside that
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