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Billy heard the screen door slam like a rifle shot, and he knew before he even looked up that Danny was carrying a storm inside him. Danny never slammed anything. He was the kind of man who treated doors, tools, and people with the same quiet respect — like everything in the world had a soul you ought to handle gently. But this morning, he came in hot, boots pounding across the pine floor like he was trying to stomp out a fire only he could see. Billy nudged the coffee pot. “