“When she said we had to stay there.”
Her little thumb wiped my cheek.
“You came upstairs.”
As if that was enough.
As if I had rescued them.
When all I could think was that I should have rescued them years earlier.
Richard stayed near the door.
He did not intrude.
Eventually I looked at him.
“How did you know my name?”
His shoulders became still.
“I think we should discuss that tomorrow.”
“No.”
Something about his answer frightened me.
“Why were you really at that luncheon?”
He lowered his eyes.
“Emily—”
“Margaret was afraid of you before you showed her that deed.”
Silence.
“You knew Michael.”
Richard looked toward my daughters.
Olivia was watching him now.
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
I stood.
“How?”
“He contacted me eight months before he died.”
My hands went numb.
“For what?”
Richard removed a small black flash drive from his pocket.
