Tommy hadn’t been very sure of that before, but he was sure now. His dad had come home and they had played catch in the yard, and they watched Cosby together and had fun, and it was the best night. That’s how he remembered it now, and that’s what he was going to tell anyone who asked him—even the FBI.

Wendy stood in the dining room, pressed up against the wall next to the French doors that went into the living room. No one knew she was there. It was dark in the dining room, and her parents believed she was asleep upstairs. They were too wrapped up in their argument to notice anything else anyway.

Adults were foolish, she had decided. Or naïve—that was a word Tommy had taught her. They thought they could put on nice faces and phony voices and make a kid believe anything. That was about as stupid as she had been when she was little and believed if she pretended to be a cat, she would actually look like a cat to people watching her.

She listened now to the things they said to each other. Hurtful things. Sad things. Things that would add up to nothing good.

“What do you want me to do, Sara? Go to a hotel? This is my home. You’re the one who’s not happy. Why don’t you leave?”

“You’re the one who’s cheating—”

“That’s bullshit! You don’t trust me. How hurt do you think I am? You think you’re the wounded party here, Sara. What about me?”

“You’re the one the detectives are asking questions about! How well did you know Lisa Warwick? Where were you when that other girl went missing?”

“So you just go ahead and believe I’m a killer?”

“I don’t! But—”

“That’s insane! They’re asking questions because they don’t have the answers! It’s called an investigation. That’s what they do.”

“I know you had feelings for Lisa. I know she had feelings for you—”

“So you think I had feelings for her, that I was cheating on you with her, but I also murdered her? That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Nothing makes sense! We had such a good thing. We had such a nice family—”

“We still do if you would stop being such a crazy jealous bitch!”

“Stop it!” Wendy shouted, running into the living room. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop fighting!”

Stunned to silence, both of her parents stared at her.

“You’re never here, Daddy!” she said, then turned to her mother. “And when he’s home all you do is fight! Stop it!”

Her mother put her face in her hands and started to cry. Her father looked from one to the other of them.