Over the line I heard the distinct metallic snap of his gold wristwatch band closing around his wrist.

“If you keep poking around in Pine Ridge,” Gene said, “you’re going to wreck the whole probate file before the estate is even settled.”

“I’m trying to understand what happened thirty-four years ago,” I said.

“Nothing happened except a tragedy,” Gene said, his voice sinking into a harsh rasp.

“Your mother died in nineteen ninety, Mara.

Frank saved you.

Don’t insult his memory while he’s lying in a hospice bed.”

He hung up without saying goodbye, leaving the phone screen glowing blue in the dark car.