And then Colin said the thing that I think he had been not saying since the night the police came.

“I heard how she spoke to you.”

I did not say anything.

“Every Sunday. For four years. She’d correct you about the potatoes in front of Lia, or she’d say something about your job, or she’d do the thing where she’d ask if you were tired.”

His hands were flat on the counter. “And I’d catch your eye and do a face, and then I wouldn’t say anything, and I’d tell myself I’d talk to her about it later, and I never did once.

Not one time in four years.