see from the way Kate was holding herself — the way a person holds themselves when they have been carrying knowledge that they know doesn’t belong to them — that this was true. “Tell me what you know.”
Kate sat her at the kitchen table. There were crayons on the surface. A lunch box. A half-finished spelling worksheet with a child’s name at the top.
Kate stood across from her and said: “Roy was my uncle. He’s been gone three weeks now. He raised Danny from when Danny was small. Told him his father was an old friend from another county who couldn’t keep him. Moved around a lot when Danny was little — I didn’t meet Danny until he was twelve, thirteen maybe. Roy never talked about Danny’s first years. He enrolled him in school late, with paperwork that wasn’t complete, with a different version of his first name.”
Margaret looked at
