She handed it to me, and I examined the writing in the natural light from the living room window. The letter was dated September 4, 2002. Over all these years, the only communication my aunt had with her husband was a scant paragraph in length.

I’m sorry I left so suddenly. I hope you and Crissy are well. I want you to know Abe’s safe in Philadelphia, and he’ll be living with me from now on. I think you know that’s for the best.

“Did you show this to the police?”

“No,” Felicia said, startled. “Should I have?”

The letter was crucial to establishing a timeline. Felicia had to know that. It didn’t seem like she was going out of her way to help the local cops. On the contrary, if Felicia hadn’t mentioned the letter to Harmison, that could qualify as obstruction.

I asked if I could hold on to the letter, and Felicia agreed that would be fine. When we sat back down, she lowered her eyes. “I wasn’t a good mother to your cousins, Shana.”

Oh, God. What to say? “I’m sure you did the best you could.”

“All I ever wanted was to keep them safe, but I didn’t know how, not without hurting them. I was so afraid.”

“Of what?” I needed to understand. “What were you afraid of, Aunt Fee?”

She angled her head and said, “Losing them.”

I never would have thought my aunt could be prophetic, yet here she was describing a fear that ultimately came to pass. She’d lost them both, and much more.

Felicia said, “You must have heard some terrible stories about me.”

My whole face burned. I’d heard stories, yes, but the worst thing I knew Felicia to have done I’d witnessed with my own eyes. Abe didn’t want to tell her what we learned the day we walked to Brett’s work. He knew how upset his mother would be. Felicia was still furious with Brett for leaving her the first time, but Abe was committed to changing his father’s mind. That made it all the more heartbreaking when he failed.

By the time we got back to the house that Friday, Felicia was frantic with worry and demanded to know where we’d been. Abe made me wait out on the lawn while they talked, but I saw him through the kitchen window, its curtains flapping in the summer breeze off the bay.

When he got to the part about Brett moving out of state, Felicia grabbed a jug of milk from the counter and swung it straight at her son’s head. The whole side of his face was purple for days. Afterward, Felicia cried harder than Abe did. But the damage was done.

“I needed help back then,” Felicia went on, “but I was too overstrung to ask for it, and Brett’s drinking and gambling made me even more paranoid. I used to be so worried any trouble he stirred up would find its way back to the kids. But the trouble, it came from me. When I think of what Abe did to you, I can hardly bear it. Can I tell you something, Shana?” she said. “I knew. I didn’t want to believe it, could never bring myself to tell Della, but I always knew it wasn’t an accident.”