Somewhere among them was our daughter, who had spent months believing she was responsible for finding the truth.

“Then we’re finally asking the right questions,” I told him.

“You need to answer them through the proper process.”

Derek exhaled.

“You sound like a stranger.”

“Maybe you’ve stopped hearing me only when I agree with you.”

I ended the call before Grace opened the passenger door.

That evening, she wanted help constructing a bridge for her class town.