My daughter screamed. I dropped to the floor, laughing and sobbing so hard no sound came out clean. Then I heard what Bennett hadn’t said.

“Noah,” I whispered. “What about Daniel? What about Ethan?”

The silence returned. “Noah says Daniel died three years ago.”

The room tilted.

“He got sick,” she said softly. “Pneumonia that turned to sepsis. He refused hospitals for too long because he was afraid the records would expose them.”

I closed my eyes. Daniel had run to save them, and then fear had kept him from care.