Jackson had dared Billy to enter McAffey’s house and steal something, just so he could prove he was brave. “They said terrible things about her, same as they probably say about old ladies everywhere. Boys my age were afraid of her, and if I could really get in there and make it out alive, I’d be the big man on campus, you know?”

“I understand, go on.”

“So I crept in through a window…” The window had been unlocked. The plan was to get in, grab something, and get out before anybody saw. But just as Cox was stuffing a small paperweight into his backpack, Mrs. McAffey saw him.

“I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was mortified that some dumb kid would break in and take something of hers. For the first time ever, I felt bad.”

“And then?”

“You know what happened then, doc!” Cox’s voice was rising. The guilt, the pain, was all rushing back to him.

“Tell me!” Greyson pushed.

“She DIED, ok? She died. Before she had even had a chance to speak, she clutched her chest and fell to the ground.”

“What did you do?”

“I left. I got scared, and I left.”

They had found her body a few days later, and a funeral was arranged at the church. Surprisingly, everyone from town showed up. They were all so sorry for her.

“And did you tell?”

“You know I didn’t,” Cox replied flatly. “I didn’t tell anyone. Hell, even Jackson didn’t know – turns out he thought we’d get caught, so he’d fled as soon as I got in the place.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Greyson’s voice was still even, still calm. It was as if this was normal conversation for him.

“I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of another devil lecture from my mother, or a beating from my pop.”

“And then what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cox said.

“You have to let it out, Cox. What happened next?”