Patricia leaned closer to the sidelight.

Her mouth moved.

The porch microphone caught her voice, syrupy sweet and perfectly clear over the distant street noise.

“Your father will come back when you learn to behave.”

Lily slid down the glass and vanished from the frame.

The crying grew louder, carrying out through the thin weather stripping of the front door.

Patricia adjusted her pearl earrings.

She turned her back on the house and walked down the brick steps.