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Memories return in broken pieces.

Dad looking through the curtains.

Dad telling us not to answer the door.

Dad holding Mom in the kitchen when he thought we were asleep.

I didn’t understand any of it.

I was thirteen.

I thought my parents were arguing.

Dad was afraid.

“Grandpa knew Dad was being followed,” I say.

“He learned too late.”

“And after they killed him?”

“They searched your home before the police notified Elanore.”

Mom lifts her head.

“What?”

Thomas’s face fills with regret.

“James found the back door unlocked. Your husband’s office had been searched.”

Mom stands.

“They were in my house?”

“I believe they were.”

“James asked me to help him check it before you brought the girls home.”

“You never told me.”

“We didn’t want you to know someone had been there.”

“You let me raise my daughters in that house!”

“James changed the locks and installed security.”

“That wasn’t his decision to make.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

Nathan rises beside Mom.

He doesn’t speak for her or try to calm her.

He simply stands close enough to catch her if grief becomes too heavy.

Ben does the same for me.