We stared at each other for what felt like a long time. It was as if our mutually agreed-upon illusions had finally dissipated. Anyone in this world could kill, in the right set of circumstances, Tariq had told me. To protect those whom you love. I wanted to hate Martin, but I felt empty and exhausted, and he suddenly seemed pathetic to me. It wasn’t hard to understand that a father might kill to protect his child. But this particular father was at the root of his son’s problems. He would wonder for the rest of his life what had gone wrong with Ridley, but it would never occur to him to look in the mirror.

The silence was broken by Ridley. “Did you find Claudia yet?” His eyes were on me, sadness tempered by just a little flame of hope. That was extinguished as he read my expression. I closed my eyes and put my hands over my mouth, struggling not to break down here, in Martin’s living room, of all places.

“She’s dead, Ridley,” Martin said. “I’m sorry. She died of a drug overdose.”

“Claudia?” Ridley choked on my sister’s name. I watched his face crumple. His huge shoulders and chest stared heaving and there was no sound in the room except his ragged breathing. Martin started to put his arm around him, but his son recoiled. He ran from the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Then there was the slamming of a door, and silence. I wiped tears from my cheeks while rummaging for a tissue in my bag with the other. Martin handed me a wad of Kleenex and I mopped up my face.

“I’m sorry, Lily, about all of this. I wish I’d told you everything from the start. It wouldn’t have helped your sister but…” He took my hand.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Surely, after all that had passed between us, he wasn’t stupid or arrogant enough to think…

“I love you,” he said. “I can count on one hand the number of people I give a damn about in this world. There’s Ridley, and my mother, and you. When I met you, I thought I’d dreamed you into existence. You’re everything to me.”

As delicately as I could, I extricated my hand from his grasp. “You need to understand that it’s over between us. I don’t want to see you again. Don’t call me. Not ever. Is that clear?”

“Don’t leave me again,” whispered Martin. “We need to work this out.”

I laughed. Not the throttled sound I’d made earlier; this was astonishment at the absurdity of the situation and the incongruity of his words. “Please leave me alone. Forever.”

His mouth was set in a grim, determined line. “We’re not done.”

“Oh, we definitely are.”