I spent most of Tuesday morning trying to convince myself that I was being paranoid.
The rumours could have come from anyone, and Charlotte had plenty of reasons to dislike me, but suspicion wasn't proof and I refused to accuse somebody without knowing what I was talking about.
Still, every time I thought about those posts, her face appeared in my mind.
By lunchtime, I couldn't stand wondering anymore. I washed my hands after finishing a repair, changed out of my grease stained shirt, and headed upstairs to shower. I stood beneath the hot water for several minutes while I tried to organize my thoughts, and when I finally stepped out, I dried my hair and pulled on jeans with a clean shirt.
I wasn't going to Charlotte's house to start a fight. I was going to ask questions.
I drove acros
