And somewhere in that house, my sister had known, and my mother had known, every single day of my life.

Chapter 14 — The Man in the Photographs

The evidence from the cellar told the rest before anyone had to.

Among the old photographs Kingsbury’s team recovered was a face that appeared again and again beside my mother’s — a lean, smiling man I had never been introduced to and yet felt I half remembered, the way you half remember a smell from early childhood.

His name, the files said, was Truett Rennick.

And Truett Rennick was not a stranger to the Tucson police.