Greg fell silent. When he spoke again, he didn’t look at D.D., but at Danielle. “There are answers about my family I’ll never have. But maybe it doesn’t matter. My sister either killed my father because he was doing something terrible, or because she was suffering from something terrible. Either way, not her fault. Either way, she’s the only family I have left.”

Danielle didn’t say anything. Her expression remained shuttered, her body language tight. Apparently, the nurse wasn’t the forgiving type.

“Your grandparents?” D.D. asked Greg.

“Died several years back. The murders, the trial, my sister’s hospitalization … it took a lot out of them. They never recovered.”

“So you’re on your own and working here. Then you decide to upgrade your sister’s hospital, which means you need more money. A lot more money. Good news, the world is filled with desperate parents overwhelmed by their psycho kids, so revenue opportunities abound. You take the first respite job, then what?”

“They referred me to another family, then another. And sometimes, on the unit, maybe it would come up in conversation.”

“So maybe,” D.D. filled in for him, “you did prey on vulnerable parents.”

“No.” Greg said it firmly. “They might ask. It’s a natural segue. Here I am, qualified to assist with their kid, and there they are, needing assistance. They ask, I answer.”

“They ask,” Danielle confirmed quietly. “I’ve even heard parents pester Karen to make staff available to babysit. Parents are desperate for options.”

“How did it start with the Harringtons?” D.D. asked.

“I knew them from the unit. Ozzie was a very active kid and, you know”—Greg shrugged—“I don’t have a problem with that. We can wrestle and chase and I can keep a handle on things. That’s my job. And Denise and Patrick Harrington wanted that. So we arranged that one morning each week—it depended on my schedule here—I’d come over and take Ozzie to play. We’d go to the park, maybe bike. Something physical. They’d get time to themselves, Ozzie could blow off steam. It worked for everyone.”

“When did it start, when did it end?”

Greg had to think about it. “September last year. Couldn’t give you an exact date. Soon after they discharged Ozzie. It lasted nine months, then Patrick lost his job, and respite wasn’t an option anymore.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“They fired you,” D.D. stated impatiently. “What’d you do?”

“Fired me? They ran out of money. Not their fault. Frankly, I felt bad for them. Life was already tough. But they were good people. And Ozzie was doing a lot better by then. I figured they’d be okay.”

“What do you mean, ‘Ozzie was doing a lot better’?”

“You know, with Andrew.”