“I can’t say for certain. But could you please lay off the direct questions?”

She looked at me, doubtful. “When are you going to take her to the police, Dad?”

“I’ll go and talk to your mum.”

No one spoke much at lunch. Elsa and I smiled throughout, glad to have our family together, hoping that our happiness might spread to our daughters. But now that happiness felt strained, more a display than a spontaneous expression of emotion.

Only Franklin seemed truly happy. He waved his tiny fists, saying “Llll . . . Llll . . .” over and over. Impossible to believe he could remember his sister. Licia smiled warmly at him, but when I caught her eye there was an emptiness behind the smile that troubled me. She looked away, sat frowning at the food on her plate, then forced herself to smile and look up.

Vee stared at her sister. I could see she was on the verge of tears, though she would not let herself cry.

“May I go clean my room?” said Licia.

I looked at Elsa. Elsa nodded. “Of course, love,” I said.

“Thank you.” She got up, carried her plate to the dishwasher, knelt down, loaded it into the bottom drawer, the glass into the top, put her knife and fork into the cutlery basket. She closed the dishwasher and walked from the room. Still Vee was watching her sister, shaking her head as if trying to erase a thought.

I pulled my chair next to Vee’s, put my arm around her. She leaned into me, sobbed silently for a time. “This will pass, Vee,” I said.

“Llll,” said Franklin.

“I promise you this will pass.”

“It better.”

“Your father’s right, honey.” Elsa was on her feet by Franklin, reaching down to pull him from his high chair.

Vee was staring sullenly up at her mother. “Did you even call the police?”

The smile froze on Elsa’s face.

Vee looked from her mother to me. “Seriously? Neither of you called the police yet?”

Elsa sat down. “It’s Saturday,” she said.

“So? This is an active case.”

“Vee,” I said. “Vee, listen to me. Of course we are going to call the police. But in practical terms there’s very little difference between us calling now, and us calling on Monday. We decided it would be good to have a bit more time. There’s so much we don’t yet know about what’s happened.”

“And, what? You’re going to know that by Monday?”

“I mean—”

“Because you know what it looks like? It looks like you’re trying to get a story straight.” She was on her feet, heading toward the living room. “Thanks for the food.”

“Vee,” said Elsa.

“What?”

Elsa nodded toward Vee’s plate.

Vee walked to the table, picked up her plate, loaded it noisily into the dishwasher.

I heard shouting from the girls’ rooms: Vee’s voice raised, Licia’s speaking calmly.