I looked out at the courtyard where a father was helping a little boy balance on a low stone wall.

“Of what the truth would do to us,” I said.

Colton began apologizing again, but I asked him to stop.

Not because I didn’t need an apology.

Because apologies had become a way to fill space that ought to contain changed behavior.

“Please cooperate with the investigation,” I said.

“Please answer Evelyn’s questions and don’t ask me to cover for anything.”

“I will.”