The midnight laundromat girl held the key to a secret that could shut down the entire village—until one night changed everything

“State your name.”

“Dale Mercer. I run a repair shop on Pike Street.”

My heart sank a little.

Dale shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I think Mr. Whitaker is a good man,” he said. “Everybody knows that.”

Then he looked at me.

“But good men make mistakes too.”

A few people murmured.

He turned back to the board.

“I don’t want to live in a town where children continue reading …