But that wasn’t what I meant, not at all. I hadn’t known Brett to threaten so much as a spanking, though Crissy gave him plenty of opportunities to lose his temper. I’d never seen Felicia black-eyed or bruised, either. What I did see was a jug of milk making a fast arc toward Abe’s face.

I said, “The Friday of the weekend Brett was set to leave town, Abe and I went to his work to talk to him. Convince him to move back into the house.”

“I remember,” Mom said. “Poor Abe, he was still heartsick over Brett’s decision to move out.”

“Do you remember seeing Abe after that?” I asked.

My mother inclined her head and a strand of hair, blond streaked with silver, fell across her cheek. “I’m sure we did. It was a Friday, you say? He was always over here for pizza night on Fridays.”

“Not that Friday,” I said. “He had a bruise on the side of his face. He . . . didn’t want to come.”

“That, I remember,” said Dad. “It was frightful.”

“Oh,” said my mom, “you’re talking about when he fell down the front steps. He landed smack on the concrete. He was lucky he didn’t have a concussion.”

Felicia hadn’t told her. There must have been a lot of things she hid from her sister in order to keep living the way she did. A chill spread over the backs of my arms. “He didn’t fall, Mom. Aunt Fee hit him.”

“What? No.” Confusion. It rearranged her neat features. Her eyes were blank, then fierce. “Don’t be ridiculous, Shana.”

“Aunt Fee was angry,” I said. “Abe had just told her Brett was leaving, and she reacted. She was sorry about it, but it happened. I was there. It was like she lost control.” I swallowed. Said, “That’s why I need to know if any of her arguments with Brett escalated to violence.”

My mother anchored her gaze to mine. I couldn’t help it; under her analytical stare, my cheeks burned.

“Oh my God,” she said slowly. “You think Fee did this. You think she killed Brett.”

“Mom, listen. There’s no evidence of that yet, but—”

“Shana,” said my father. His jowls were shaking. “That’s quite enough.”

“No.” Mom sat up stiffly. I didn’t like her color. I didn’t like anything about this moment, and ached for it to end. “All Fee ever wanted was for Brett to take responsibility for his family. She wouldn’t hurt him. She couldn’t hurt anyone.”

That wasn’t true, and we all knew it. Plenty of people who suffer from anxiety are excellent parents who would never resort to violence. I couldn’t be sure Felicia was one of them.

“This is your family,” my mother said, the lines on her face going taut. “Your flesh and blood. How could you even suggest your aunt is responsible for Brett’s death? How could you be so cruel?”

How do you square wanton cruelty with family ties? It isn’t easy, Mom. Her words stuck me like shards of glass, but they mobilized my mother. She got to her feet and didn’t look back as she hurried from the room.