Cora jabs a finger at me. “She broke our vows. We were doing fine. I hadn’t told anyone. And now she decides to tell the world about all the horrible things she’s done in her books. First, her husband and now…now what happened in this house. She’s the problem, not me.”

As calm and reasoned as I want to be, my brain has other plans. It tells me to stand and tower over Cora, assume a threatening stance. So I do.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” My hands are shaking, fury, not nerves.

“Sit down,” my father says.

“I don’t?” she says. “You think you’re innocent? Oh, I don’t think so.”

I want to smash my fist right into her cheekbone, batter that perfect face.

“You can pretend you didn’t kill Riley, but how about The Child of the Steps?” Cora continues. “I suppose that’s also a coincidence?”

“Rose, sit,” my father commands.

I do not sit. “I’m human, Cora. A human with a conscience. With guilt and regrets. But neither of you know what that’s like because you don’t seem bothered by it at all.” I place my hands on each arm of her chair and lean closer to her face. “We never talked about it. After that night, we all pretended like it never happened. So let me ask you.” I can smell her, CK One mixed with a feral musk. “Caleb was never trying to rape you, was he? You lured him here. You wanted to hurt him all along.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “I think you don’t know what my thoughts have ever been, Little Sister.”

I’m not going to let her talk in ambiguities. “I know what I saw that night, and we’re going to talk about it. Caleb Benner was begging for help, and you didn’t have an ounce of fear or concern on your face. He was bleeding. You were smiling.”

“Fuck off,” she says.

“If he was trying to rape you and you fought back, we’d have gone to the police. Self-defense. The only reason not to do that is if you attacked him first.” I rise up, point to my father. “He even knew it. Dad made the call right there, decided no one was going to know about it. Why would he have done that and jeopardized our family by covering everything up?”

“He was protecting us.”

“No, it was because he knew your story was bullshit. Knew what you were capable of all along. He even said it that night. Something like, ‘I’ve known it for years.’ What was it, Cora? What had he known for years about you?”

“You don’t understand anything,” she says. “You write your little detective stories with no clue what really goes on in the minds of the people in your stories. You think you know, but you don’t.”

I pause, take a breath. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what it’s like to be you. Tell me what happened to you. Tell me…” I try to get her to make eye contact, and when she does, it lasts only a second. Just like Max, I think. “Tell me who you are.”