Cletus stood in his workshop late at night, running sandpaper over a piece of oak with mechanical precision, but his mind was miles away, trapped in thoughts he couldn't escape and fears he couldn't voice; Aryyah had gone back to her hotel hours ago after spending the evening with him, and he had watched her drive away with her hand on her rounded belly, four months pregnant with a child that might not be his.

He set down the sandpaper and stared at his hands, these hands that created ...