She’s just sour she’s not getting a slice.” And then the knock came — three heavy, even blows on the old oak door, the kind of knock that does not come from anyone you want to see.

“State Police and Adult Protective Services,” a voice said through the door.

“Open up.” Chloe’s laundry basket hit the floor.

Julian went the color of paper, and his eyes came to me, fast, and I watched him begin, at last, to understand.

“Did you call the police?” His voice climbed.

He took a step toward me, and his hands were closing into fists.

“What did you tell them?” I did not stand and I did not flinch.