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“No.”

Riot’s expression had hardened. “Why?”

Ben looked at me before answering him.

“Because I didn’t want to explain how I knew him.” His jaw tightened. “That’s the ugly answer.”

Dad studied him.

Ben didn’t look away.

“And because for a long time I told myself it didn’t matter,” he added. “We weren’t close. We didn’t grow up together. I didn’t consider him family in any way that mattered.”

Marion folded her arms across herself. It looked less defensive than cold.

Sunshine had gone pale beneath her light brown skin.

I was still stuck on the name.

Wade. A van. Hard, mean, prying hands. Acrid taste at the back of my throat.

Nothing after.

Three missing days sitting in the middle of my childhood like someone had taken scissors to the film.

Ben continued. “He contacted me recently.”

Dad’s eyes sharpened. “What do you mean, contacted you?”

“He called.”

“When?”

“After he got out.”

Something shifted in the room. Tiny. But I felt it.

Dad.

Riot.

Neither one looked surprised.

I stared at Dad.

After he got out.

I heard my own voice come from farther away than it should have. “He’s out?”

Dad looked at me. He didn’t lie. “Yes.”

Sunshine’s head snapped toward him. “What?” Her voice was quiet. That was worse than yelling.

Dad’s eyes left mine and went to hers.

Sunshine stared at him. “You didn’t tell me?”

Marion turned slowly toward her husband.