I can’t tell from Caleb’s expression if what I’m saying irritates or interests him, but he moves away from the bedroom door and sits on the arm of the plaid sofa, facing me, perhaps ten feet away. The knife resting on his knee. “We used to have a secret language when we were kids.”

“I’ve heard that about twins. I’m jealous that you had someone to love like that.”

“It was very special.” The muscle on his right forearm twitches, and the bowie blade jumps as if of its own volition. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sure it was special. But then someone took her. Hurt her.”

He sits forward now as his pupils snap over me. He looks angry, as if I’ve flipped a switch. “Like I said, you wouldn’t understand.”

Cricket seems to sense a change in pressure in the room. She’s been resting near the coffee table, not far from where Caleb is, but now her head pops up as she looks at me. I hold her eyes, silently willing her over. Not because she can stop him from hurting me if he decides to, but for the comfort of her body.

“Are you still mad at your mom, Caleb? Is that what some of this is about? Why you need to make women pay?”

“What do you know about it?”

“My mom left, too.” I’m surprised to hear myself say the words, as if they’ve appeared in my mind unbidden. “She killed herself.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I never talk about it. You know how it is,” I say, trying to align us carefully without setting him off. He’s like a human bomb with dozens of trip wires. Some of them I can see, but most are deeply inside him. “Sometimes I wish she was still here so I could show her how much of my life she messed up. Do you ever wish that?”

His gaze narrows again, but he doesn’t respond.

“How come your mom didn’t come back after Jenny was murdered?” I’m goading him deliberately now. Testing wires. Hoping I’m not wrong. “Didn’t she care at all?”

“She did care. She just couldn’t come back. She wasn’t a strong person.”

Now it’s my turn to react. It’s like I’m looking into a mirror. Hearing lines from a script I wrote a long time ago. I have the strangest feeling that all of this has happened before. As if the path has already been laid. As if there’s only one possible place to step. “Not everyone can be strong,” I say. “I see that. I’ll bet you had to do a lot for Jenny because your mom couldn’t.”

“I didn’t mind,” he says quickly. “I was good at it. Our dad was always so useless.”