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She was using magicks again.
He could tell, whatever his daughter claimed. She had that shifty look like when she was three, sneaking out of the pantry with cookies under her t-shirt.
"Honey, I just worry about you."
"I'm twenty-one. Stop trying to control me."
She'd survived growing up in this hellish town. Her mother's neglect, all the weird things at school.
He knew she was messing with his memory. Too many gaps; he wasn't even sure where she'd lived the last three years. She could twist him around her finger, but Amy couldn't keep Stan Madison's heart from breaking.