The wind rustled softly through the trees, carrying with it the gentle scent of lavender and pine from the garden. Anne stood on the porch of Heather and Emily's cosy home.
Taking a deep breath, Anne knocked on the door. Heather answered almost immediately, her face pale, her eyes tired, as if sleep had eluded her for many nights. Emily stood a few feet behind her, her expression a mirror of her mother's—uneasy and troubled. The tension in the air was palpable, thick, and unspoken.
"Anne," Heather greeted, her voice brittle but welcoming. "Come in."
Anne stepped inside. Ryan ran inside and helped himself to the cookies kept on the table.
"I've been thinking about what Emily told me," Anne began, her tone calm but urgent. "About Jennifer, your sister, and Richard."
