Sadie sat sideways in the back seat, staring down at her lap.

Her thumbs kept picking at the hem of her jeans.

“Did your father call you yesterday?” Darla asked, looking into the rearview mirror.

Sadie hunched her shoulders up toward her ears.

“No.”

“Good,” Darla said.

“Then we don’t need to say his name today.”

A flatbed loaded with steel pipe roared past us in the left lane, flinging gravel against our passenger doors.