I have spent twenty-five years being good.
Good daughter. Good piano teacher. Modest dresses, folded hands, a journal hidden in the bench of an upright piano in the back of my father's church.
Then I left the journal at the wrong man's shop.
Ezra Dorsey is everything my father — a retired detective turned pastor — has spent his life warning me about. He paints motorcycles at the edge of town. He's the brother of the man Dad once hunted. And he just read every word I wrote.
He returned the journal at eleven p.m. He told me, on my own doorstep, that I do not belong in this building.
I knew, the moment he rode away, that I would go to his shop on Thursday.
I did not know the whole town would be watching.
What does a preacher's daughter become when a saint teaches her how to sin?
