Bennett sat on the edge of his mattress with his knees hugged to his chest, rubbing his sleeve cuff between two fingers until the blue thread frayed.

“I unlocked the front door for her on Tuesday,” Bennett said, his voice small and thin against the bare walls.

“Aunt Lauren said you forgot your file folder.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Bennett,” I said, folding his winter sweaters into a low brown box.

“She told me to stay in the TV room while the tall man helped her,” he said.

“He had a big black box on a dolly.”