She responded with, “Stay away from Cullen Henking.” The tiny flick of her eyes signaled it was not up for discussion. That was the only eye contact we had all evening.

The faucet runs upstairs. She’s washing her face, brushing her teeth—the last of her ritual before climbing in bed and reading until she passes out well before nine o’clock.

Grabbing the printouts from my bag, I sneak into my dad’s office, thankful the floorboards downstairs don’t make a sound. I pull the picture of old Chicago off the wall and flip it around. Leaning it against the wall, I sit cross-legged on the oriental rug in the middle of the room. Even though I’ve reviewed my crime collage hundreds of times, I scan it for any connection to Daniel London or Harry Hewitt I somehow missed.

If Bill Morrell was a fall guy like Emi said, which of the men from the picture are in charge? And why are London’s and Hewitt’s kids a part of the Swarm even though they don’t seem to want to be in it?

I pick up the Hewitt family photo, taken a few years back. Ryan’s face is rounder, young—not so hard and angular. His gray eyes are captivating. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight hits them, but they look warmer—not so metallic. His smile lights up his face in a way that makes him seem like the kid everyone always wants to be around. It’s weird seeing him this way. I wonder what it would’ve been like to meet the kid in this picture. Would I have liked him? Had a crush on him? Would I have felt that jittery rush of nerves and excitement every time we talked? This kid is nothing like the guy who threw me off Navy Pier. Something happened after this picture that turned him into a cold, distant killer.

I tape the printouts of Ryan’s family photo and the Lakefront Project men in the upper corner and rehang the picture on the wall.

Other than the whirling hum coming from the vents, our house is still, filling me with unease, activating every nerve in my body. My mom must be reading or already asleep. Either way, the silence is suffocating—especially in the office, where my dad’s ghost lingers.