“A pair of guardian angels showed up in my life. You didn’t have that, did you?”

“No. No guardian angels.” They passed Dogs ’N’ Malts, closed up for the night. She was no longer shaking quite so badly, and she unclasped her hands. He flipped on his high beams. “Curtis was murdered while I was in juvie,” he said.

She’d suspected this was coming, but it didn’t make it easier to hear.

Panda went on. “It was a drive-by shooting. Without me around to protect him, he started ignoring curfews. They let me out to go to his funeral. He was ten years old.”

If it hadn’t been for Nealy and Mat, this might have been her story and Tracy’s story. She licked her dry lips. “And you’re still trying to live with what happened. Even though you were only a kid at the time, you still blame yourself. I understand that.”

“I figured you would.” They were alone on the dark road.

“I’m glad you told me,” she said.

“You haven’t heard all of it.”

For months she’d tried to get him to spill his secrets, but she was no longer sure she wanted to hear them.

He slowed for the road’s sharpest curve. “When Curtis’s sperm donor found out my mother was pregnant, he gave her five hundred dollars and split. She loved the jerk and wouldn’t go to a lawyer. Curtis was nearly two before she realized her big love wasn’t coming back. That was when she started using.”

Lucy did the math. Panda had been nine when he’d become his brother’s caretaker. A protector, even then.

“When I got older,” he said, “I found out who the bastard was and tried to call him a couple of times, tell him how bad things were for his kid. He acted like he didn’t know who I was talking about. Told me he’d have me locked up if I kept harassing him. Eventually I found out where he lived and went to see him.” He shook his head. “It’s not easy for a city kid to get to Grosse Pointe on public transportation.”

Grosse Pointe? Lucy sat up straighter, an odd feeling coming over her.

“It was a big house, looked like a mansion to me. Gray stone with four chimneys, a swimming pool, and these kids chasing each other around the front yard with water guns. Three boys in their teens. A girl. Even in shorts and T-shirts they all looked rich.”

The pieces fell into place.

“The Remingtons,” he said. “The perfect American family.”

The car’s headlights cut through the night.