This was the dangerous part. The part she had promised herself she would not say until she had to. Because names changed everything. Names opened graves. Names woke questions. Names ruined the temporary mercy of being a stranger.
But the blood had already touched the floor. And something in this house felt like a place where old secrets had been waiting with the windows shut.
“Rose Harper,” she said softly. “But before she died, she used to work sometimes for a lady named Martha Boone.”
The room changed.
It did not happen with noise. It happened with stillness.
The father’s grip on Eli loosened.
Caleb looked up sharply.
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