Just like before.

Back inside, Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands.

“I should’ve made it stronger,” he muttered, blaming himself.

I sat beside him. “No. You did something good. That’s what matters.”

“But it didn’t last.”

I didn’t have an answer for that.

I thought Mrs. Harlow’s actions were the worst part.

Until the next morning.

I heard several car engines outside.

I stepped onto the porch and saw a long black SUV pulling up in front of Mrs. Harlow’s house. Two more followed. When the doors opened, serious-looking men in suits stepped out.

They weren’t neighbors. They weren’t police.