I nodded. “Lotty told me you’d called yesterday with an angry message. I just didn’t have the strength to get back to you.”

She looked at me directly for the first time since she’d arrived. “I don’t blame you—I was mad enough to spit blood and then some. I was screaming my head off at you while I drove to Help of Christians. But when I got there all I could think of was you and your mother looking after Ma and me all those years. And then I thought of what you’d been through for the two of us just these last three weeks. And I felt terribly ashamed. It never would have happened if I hadn’t pushed you into looking for my father when you didn’t want to do it.”

I took her hand and squeezed it. “I’ve been plenty mad at you—probably cursed you worse than you did me. And I’m not exactly wearing a halo—if I’d bugged out when you asked me to I’d never have been left for dead in the swamp and Louisa wouldn’t have been kidnapped.”

“But I don’t think the police would ever have found out the truth,” she objected. “They never would have found Nancy’s killer, and Jurshak and Dresberg would still be ruling South Chicago. I shouldn’t have been such a chicken—I should have told you about the threats to Louisa to begin with, so you wouldn’t get blindsided.”

I knew I needed to tell her about discovering who had gotten Louisa pregnant, but I couldn’t seem to find the words. Or maybe it was just the courage. While I was fishing around for it Caroline said abruptly:

“I bought Ma some cigarettes. I remembered what you said that first night you came by, how they wouldn’t make her any worse and they might cheer her up. And I could see all I was trying to do was have power over her, keeping her from having one thing that might bring her a little pleasure.”

Her last words brought back Lotty’s advice most strongly. I took a breath and said, “Caroline, I have to tell you—I did find out who your father was.”

Her blue eyes turned very dark. “Not Joey Pankowski, right?”

I shook my head. “I’m afraid not. There isn’t any easy way to say this, or to hear it, but it would be really wrong for me not to tell you—a most noxious way of controlling your life.”

She looked at me solemnly. “Go ahead, Vic. I—I think I’m more grown up than I used to be. I can take it.”

I took both her hands and said gently, “It was Art Jurshak. He was your—”

“Art Jurshak!” she burst out. “I don’t believe you. Ma never would have come across him in a million years! You’re making this up, aren’t you?”

I shook my head. “I wish I were. Art—he—uh—your Grandmother Djiak is his sister. He used to spend a lot of time with Connie and Louisa when they were little, and the Djiaks chose not to notice that he was abusing them. Your grandparents are both terrified of sex, and your grandfather especially is frightened of women, so they made up a vile fairy tale for themselves that it was your mother’s fault when she got pregnant. Although they did stop seeing Art, it was Louisa they punished. They’re a pretty loathsome couple, Ed and Martha Djiak.”