“Mark,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. She clutched at the edge of the table, her knuckles whitening. “These are your father’s things…”
Mark watched her, his mouth set in a firm line. “Yes,” he said. “And they’re not just things, mom. They’re secrets. Secrets about dad, about his disappearance, about this town.”
Denial flickered across Jessica’s face, momentarily masking her surprise. “Your father…” she began, her voice catching in her throat. “Your father had his reasons.”
“Reasons?” Mark echoed, disbelief tinging his words. “For disappearing? For leaving us? For becoming involved in… in all of this?” He gestured broadly at the damning evidence spread across the table.