to repair your car.”
“You should’ve offered that two weeks ago.”
“I was stupid.”
“You were cruel.”
Her expression slowly crumbled.
Not dramatically.
She simply looked exhausted.
Like all that anger had finally burned itself out.
“Sabrina found pink paint on my clothes,” she admitted.
I looked toward the footage.
“She kept asking me where it came from. I told her it was nothing.”
“She figured it out?”
Denise nodded.
“She saw your car yesterday afternoon. Then she called me last night.”
“What did she say?”
Denise gave a miserable little laugh.
“She told me that if I wanted to behave like a child, she was going to make sure I understood what it felt like.”
I looked through the window toward Denise’s white-painted car.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
It hadn’t been random vandalism.
Her sister had been sending her a message.
I still
