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He swallowed all the pain and fury the memories brought.

“Oh, Forbes.” Brooklynn slipped her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his chest. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine… I’m so sorry.”

He held onto her, allowing the memories to crash over him. “I did nothing. I just hid and let them die. I did nothing to help.”

“That’s not true.”

“I didn’t scream or try to call the police. I did nothing.”

She leaned back and lifted her hands to his cheeks.

Her fingers were cool, her touch soothing.

“It’s not true, Forbes. Your life was just as valuable as your father’s and mother’s and sister’s.

You weren’t able to save them—what little boy could have?

—so you did exactly the right thing, exactly what your parents and sister must have prayed you would do.

You did exactly what God wanted you to do. You stayed alive.”

That couldn’t be true. Could it?

All his life, he’d seen himself as a failure and a coward, but maybe…maybe Brooklynn had a point.

He’d never seen his actions like that before. His therapist had always wanted him to see that he couldn’t have saved them. It’d never occurred to him that his family wouldn’t have wanted him to risk his life.

Even that God hadn’t wanted it.

If God had wanted Forbes’s family saved, He’d have done it. He was much more capable than an eight-year-old boy.

Moments before Dad and the strangers came in, Rosie had told him to hide, that she was going to do the same thing. He’d done what his sister said because he’d always done what she said. He’d trusted her.

Rosie had closed the grate and left in a rush.

Dad came in a few minutes later, the others following him. They’d argued.

Mom’s voice had carried into the room from the open doorway. “Darling? Is everything okay?”

Dad yelled, “Run!”

A gunshot had deafened Forbes as his father’s lifeless body crashed to the floor.

His mother’s scream seemed to come from miles away. Another gunshot, then silence.

After Forbes helped Brooklynn back to the sofa, he told her the story, every gruesome detail, some he hadn’t remembered until that moment. The telling was painful, but somehow it released something inside of him.

He felt lighter afterward.

They were on the sofa together. He’d pulled her injured foot onto his lap. One hand held the ice pack steady on her ankle. His other held her hand, a warm connection he never wanted to break.

The ice had melted by the time he finished the story.

“Grandmother found me the next day.” He nodded to his hiding place. “I was still there. I’d never gotten the courage to leave. She took me home and changed my name and protected me, all these years.”

“What a strong woman she must be.”

They were the first words Brooklynn had uttered since he’d begun the story.

Her cheeks were damp, her eyes rimmed in red. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you for trusting me with the truth.”

“Thank you for helping me carry it.”

She smiled that sweet, tender smile of hers. “You’ve done enough carrying me around.” But her expression dimmed. “Can I ask a question about…all of that? Do you mind?”

“Ask me anything.”

“You didn’t recognize the man and woman?”

“I could only see them from the knees down.”

“Would you recognize their voices, if you heard them?”

Considering he still heard them in his nightmares… “I think so.”

“You didn’t hear when your sister was shot?”

“No, but her blood was found in the basement, which was far enough away that I wouldn’t have heard. Mom’s and Dad’s bodies washed in with the tide a few weeks later.”

“But Rosie’s was never recovered.”

It’d probably been eaten by scavengers or snagged on rocks somewhere. He didn’t like to think about it. “It’s a big ocean.”

“One more question?” At his nod, she said, “They accused your dad of betraying them.”

“Yeah?”

“What if he did? What if he was working with the authorities?”

“The police said he wasn’t. Of course, I’ve always believed the police were in on it.”

“Why?”

“Because they didn’t find the killers and because…

I don’t know why. It’s just something I always believed, but I could never say why.

There’s so much from that day I don’t remember.

Snippets of conversation. Maybe someone said something, or…

I don’t know.” Frustration had his lips clamping shut.

Rather than follow that dead-end road—he’d been there often enough—he added, “In any event, it never seemed like anyone cared enough to find out the truth.”

“People cared. Your family was part of the community. Their murders rocked the town. But you weren’t here to see that. As far as you knew, everything went on as usual.”

“There is one other reason I distrust the police. My grandmother told a Shadow Cove detective that I was at the house, but he kept that information out of the file and told me not to tell anyone else. Though he didn’t say so explicitly, I took that to mean not even other police officers.”

“He thought someone in the department was involved?”

Forbes shrugged. “He died before I was old enough to start investigating. I never got to question him, so I don’t know.”

“If we assume Nathan is working for The Network?—”

“A safe assumption, I think,” Forbes said.

“Agreed.” Brooklynn pushed herself higher on the sofa. “What if… what if your dad knew that a local cop was involved? What if he was gathering evidence to tell somebody else, somebody higher up, and The Network found out?”

Forbes had had the same idea many times over the years. “There’s no evidence?—”

“There’s plenty of evidence. It’s all in how you look at it. Come on, help me up.” She tugged his hand. “We need to go to your dad’s office.”

After twenty-plus years, Forbes should know better, but against his wishes, hope bubbled up inside.

Maybe Dad hadn’t been a criminal. Maybe…maybe Forbes and Brooklynn could finally get to the bottom of this.