Everybody in this family knows that.”

“That was not the question,” Lorraine said, cold as the lake.

Deputy Grady stepped in and asked whether Shawn was the one who had changed the code on the front-door lock.

Shawn admitted he had — said his parents needed regular access for maintenance work.

I looked at the leather sectional half-carried onto my porch, at the three fat wardrobe suitcases, at the commercial moving truck sunk to its axles in my yard.

“Maintenance,” I said.