Danielle knew a saying; a guilty person was not caught because they were found red-handed, but rather because they were jumpy and guilt wrote itself all over their face. She couldn’t remember where she had heard it, but it was true. And it was certainly the trouble she was having. She was jumpy and could barely swallow any of the food on the plate in front of her.
And it was a poor time to have a constricted esophagus. She was seated at the very small excuse of a table in the kitchen, directly across from Chip. The delicious smelling mashed potatoes and fried chicken with green peas on her plate, one of JC’s masterpieces, still accusingly plentiful on the white ceramic plate, barely touched.
That didn’t go unnoticed by her brother. His eyes were narrowed and studying her as though she w
