Rebecca gave a hard, humorless laugh. “He came to us with nothing. We had every right to protect ourselves.”

“He was your father.”

“He was a retired trucker with no money and nowhere to go.”

The words fell into the open air without disguise. Something shifted in Trent’s face — a last thread holding him inside her version of reality snapped.

“Get in the car,” he said.

But when their vehicles reached the end of the lane, they turned in opposite directions. His taillights went one way. Hers went the other.