The key ring went silent between his hands.

He lowered the heavy trunk lid until the steel latch clicked shut in the hushed alley.

“Uncle John is living in room fourteen at the care home,” I said.

“He told me he hasn’t laid eyes on you in four years.”

Bob took a step toward the loading dock, his face going hard around the eyes.

“So now you’re trailing me around the county?” he asked.

“Checking on me like I’m some high school kid cutting afternoon class?”