I said, “She was brave. She was stubborn. She was a laugh.” I wasn’t sure where we were going with this, but Holly was watching me sideways, intently, like it mattered. The dull yellow light from the street lamps turned her eyes darker and more complicated, harder to read. “She liked music, and adventures, and jewelry, and her friends. She had bigger plans than anyone else I knew. When she cared about something, she didn’t give up on it, no matter what. You would have liked her.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

“Believe it or not, chickadee, you would’ve. And she would have liked you.”

“Did you love her more than Mum?”

Ah. “No,” I said, and it came out so cleanly and simply that I was nowhere near sure it was a lie. “I loved her a different way. Not more. Just differently.”

Holly stared out the window, winding the bit of wool around her fingers and thinking her own intent thoughts. I didn’t interrupt. Up at the corner, a troop of kids barely older than her were pushing each other off a wall, snarling and chattering like monkeys. I caught the glow of a cigarette and the glint of cans.

Finally Holly said, in a tight, level little voice, “Did Uncle Shay kill Rosie?”

I said, “I don’t know. It’s not up to me to decide that, or to you. It’s up to a judge and a jury.”

I was trying to make her feel better, but her fists clenched and she hammered them down on her knees. “Daddy, no, that’s not what I mean, I don’t care what anyone decides! I mean really. Did he?”

I said, “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he did.”

Another silence, longer this time. The monkeys on the wall had switched to mashing crisps in each other’s faces and hooting encouragement. In the end Holly said, still in that tight small voice, “If I tell Stephen what me and Uncle Shay talked about.”

“Yeah?”

“Then what happens?”

I said, “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and find out.”

“Will he go to jail?”

“He might. It depends.”

“On me?”

“Partly. Partly on a lot of other people, too.”

Her voice wavered, just a touch. “But he never did anything bad to me. He helps me with homework, and he showed me and Donna how to make shadows with our hands. He lets me have sips out of his coffee.”

“I know, sweetie. He’s been a good uncle to you, and that’s important. But he’s done other stuff, too.”

“I don’t want to make him go to jail.”

I tried to catch her eye. “Sweetheart, listen to me. No matter what happens, it won’t be your fault. Whatever Shay did, he did it himself. Not you.”

“He’ll still be mad. And Nana, and Donna, and Auntie Jackie. They’ll all hate me for telling.”