Andrew saw it.

I saw it.

She knew we saw it.

There was something almost pitiable in that small, instinctive movement of Megan’s hand to her sleeve — pitiable and also perfectly revealing, a whole character disclosed in a single reflex.

Because in that instant, Megan was not thinking about her brother’s ruined marriage, or her mother’s ashen face, or the police cruiser pulling to the curb, or the fact that a family had just been evicted from a life they thought was theirs.

She was thinking about the bracelet.