I dump the first dustpan of food into the trash and resume sweeping.

My mom turns off the water and grips the lip of our sink. “Detective Irving said someone left an anonymous voice mail warning him about the attack.”

Two messages. I’m tempted to correct her. “He didn’t exactly listen.”

She turns and glares. “He said the same girl has left him eighteen messages in the last two years.” Tiny strands of hair stick out from her head as if full of static electricity. For a woman who prides herself on perfection, she looks so unkempt, I’m taken aback. “What exactly have you been doing?”

It’s practically an admission of her denial. Every night since my dad’s death, I’ve scoured social media. Hunted for any hint that the Swarm still exists. “I read the news,” I say, enabling the lies she must have told herself about how I spent that time on my computer.

“I told him you didn’t know anything. I begged him to drop it.”

Of course she would. Of course she would thwart any contribution I might be able to make.

“CPD is full of corruption. If the wrong people find out you knew anything about this, they’ll come after you.”

“I was careful.”

“Really?” my mom snaps. “You almost got killed. On top of that, your face is plastered all over the news. Reporters are trying to figure out what you were doing there in the first place. How is that being careful?”

I continue sweeping. At least I’m doing something instead of pretending my dad never existed. And cleaning and reorganizing every inch of this house doesn’t count. Flaunting a perfect silverware drawer or linen closet doesn’t mean she has control of her life. Or what happened to him.

“Whatever you’re trying to do, it stops here. I mean it. No phones. No Internet. It doesn’t take much for them to run your online activity. If the Swarm notices you’ve found out more than you should, they will kill you to keep you quiet. Do you understand?”

I can feel her eyes boring into the back of my head.

“If I need to take away every device you have, I will.”

I wait for the inevitable “How could you do this to me?” follow-up, but instead her voice breaks as a sob catches in her throat. “Dammit, Lia.”

I glance over my shoulder.