His eyes, sharp and assessing, were locked onto Leo like a predator waiting for the kill.
“So, Leo,” Richard said, setting his glass down with a measured thud. “You and Patricia have something to tell us, don’t you?”
He was an easygoing guy by nature—tall, a little clumsy, always cracking jokes to smooth over awkward moments.
But tonight, no amount of charm or well-placed humor was going to save him.
Patricia’s gaze drilled into him.
Leo gave her a tight smile that was meant to be reassuring but ended up looking more like a grimace.
“Yes, sir. So, um… funny thing happened. Remember your trailer?”
Silence stretched across the table, thick as fog.
“The one we were watching over?” Patricia added quickly, her voice just a bit too high, her fingers now gripping the napkin in her lap like it was the last thing keeping her tethered to reality.
“Well…” Leo let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not exactly… standing anymore.”
Richard blinked, once, twice. Lorraine paused mid-sip, her wine glass frozen just inches from her lips.
“You burned down my trailer?” Richard asked, his voice so calm that it sent a chill down Leo’s spine.
“It was an accident!” Leo shot up his hands in surrender. “There was a candle, a squirrel situation, a panicked phone call to 911—”
“A squirrel?” Lorraine repeated, brows lifting in mild interest, as if this was merely an amusing anecdote rather than a confession of arson.
“We don’t need details,” Patricia muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples.
Richard’s fingers curled around his fork, his knuckles whitening. “You burned down my trailer,” he repeated, slower this time, as if making sure he’d heard correctly.
Before Leo could finish, Lorraine gasped, her eyes widening in sudden realization. She turned sharply toward Richard, gripping his arm with surprising strength. “Richard! The letters!”
Patricia’s head snapped toward her mother. “Letters?”
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