“Mr. Tvist, at six thirty-one p.m. two police officers arrived at the slipway on the mainland, but did not make the crossing to the island. In fact, they returned to their vehicle, citing safety concerns.”

“My briefings did not include mention of these officers,” said Tvist.

“But you can confirm that at seven fifty-one p.m. your tactical weapons unit brought the two perpetrators into custody?”

“Fuck,” said Vee, eyes wide.

“That’s to say: between six-oh-three and seven fifty-one these two men, armed with assault rifles and nine-millimeter automatic pistols, were free to roam across the island, executing children at will, and they did exactly this until seven thirty-three p.m., when they ran out of ammunition. At which point they sat and waited patiently to be arrested . . .”

“That’s like a kill a minute,” said Vee. There was something almost admiring in the way she said it.

“. . . and all this despite the fact that you had officers at the scene, at the slipway on the mainland. Mr. Tvist, did those first officers at the scene have firearms in their vehicle?”

“Cal.” Elsa’s voice, very quiet. “Maybe it’s time we switched this off.”

I nodded.

Tvist was speaking again. “This was a complex and rapidly evolving situation, with many variables and many dangers.”

“Particularly for the children,” said the journalist, “who waited in vain for rescue. The only officers in the vicinity waited in their car on the mainland, concerned solely for their own safety, while on the island these children were cut down by men impersonating your officers. These men claimed they were there to put the island on lockdown. You appreciate the irony, I’m sure . . .”

I almost felt sorry for Tvist. The air had been knocked out of him.

“Mr. Tvist,” the reporter was saying, “your country has a population of, what? Five million?”

“Five-point-three.”

“And in an average year you have twenty-five murders, and in a bad year you have, what? Thirty? Perhaps?”

You could see it in Tvist’s eyes: the realization that he was being walked into a trap. He made to speak, but the journalist cut him off.

“So how would you describe ninety-one dead in a single afternoon, Mr. Tvist, the majority of them children?”

While Tvist sat there considering his response, Elsa walked to the television and switched it off.

I was bathing Franklin in the kitchen sink when Vee walked in. Franklin made fists of his tiny hands, shook them excitedly at his sister. Vee held out her pinkie, and he grasped it.

“Okay, so look,” she said, “if I watched things I shouldn’t have . . . I mean, I’m not saying I did. But if I had, how bad would that be?”

“What things?”

She looked down. I had not seen the phone in her hand. She unlocked it and held it out to me. “This is the only one left up.”

I took the phone.