She was shaking her head frantically, back and forth.

Dr. Hicks said, “It’s okay, Lucy. We’re right here to protect you. Nothing can hurt you. Do you believe me?”

Finally she nodded and expelled a shaky little girl’s breath. “I walk up the stairs and hide. I look down the hall and see my daddy going up the attic stairs.”

Savich said, “Do you see your grandmother?”

“No. She’s already up there.”

“Is your daddy carrying anything?”

“I don’t know. He’s crying. I think he’s crying about Mama again.”

“Do you go up the stairs to the attic?”

“No. I listen to them making noises, moving around in the attic, but I’m afraid to go up there, afraid they’ll see me.”

“Do you know what they’re doing in the attic?”

“I don’t see them, but they’re arguing, and Daddy’s crying again and yelling, and I’m afraid to move.”

“Could you make out what they’re saying to each other?”

“Grandmother keeps screaming about how she’s sorry, how he ruined everything.”

Lucy fell utterly silent, and her head fell to the side. Savich thought she’d come out of it and fallen asleep, but Dr. Hicks stayed his hand when he would have patted her shoulder. He shook his head to continue.

Savich said again, “Is your daddy saying anything to your grandmother you can understand?”

“My daddy’s voice is shaking. He’s yelling, and Grandmother’s crying.”

“What does your grandmother say?”

“‘I didn’t mean to, Joshua’—Grandmother always calls Daddy Joshua even though Uncle Alan and Aunt Jennifer call him Josh.”

“Do you hear your grandmother say what she didn’t mean to do?”

“She just kept crying and saying over and over, ‘He ruined everything, Joshua. My ring! He threw it out, said no one would ever find it. I couldn’t bear it, I couldn’t.’”

“What happened next?”

“They went to Grandmother’s room, so I didn’t have a chance to sneak out. Then they came back and they were both carrying lots of clothes and shoes and stuff. They went back and forth, and when they were in the attic I ran down to the kitchen.”

“Did they ever know you were there, Lucy?”

“No. I went up later and saw my dad, and he was standing by his bedroom door, and he was crying. He saw me and called to me, and I ran to him, and he hugged me.”

“You never said anything to your dad? To your grandmother?”

“No. I knew they’d be mad. I didn’t want to get swatted.”

“Lucy, tell me about your grandmother.”

She looked confused. Savich realized she was only a kid and the question was far too complicated. “Do you love your grandmother?”

She nodded, another quick, jerky movement. “She makes me peanut-butter cookies; they’re my favorite. She lets me sit beside her while she’s reading. She’s always reading. But she always sits in the living room. I hate the living room; it’s like a dead room, and you can’t breathe.”

“Do you love your grandfather, Lucy?”

Her face lit up. “Grandfather likes me to sit on his leg, and he bounces up and down and says he’s my horse. He always smells like beef jerky. I really liked jerky until—”

“Until?”

“Until he went away to the store and never came back. He worked real hard, and so did Daddy. He made lots of money, my daddy said that. One day before he went away, he came home from work and he was mad. I remember he shouted at Grandma and he said bad words. Daddy took me away. He bought me an ice cream and told me to forget it and never say those words.”

“Do you know where he worked, Lucy?”

She looked thoughtful, but she shook her head.

Savich moved away to stand beside Coop while they listened to Dr. Hicks bring Lucy back. “You did very well, Lucy. Now I’m going to snap my fingers, right in front of your nose, and you’re going to wake up. You’re going to feel relaxed and settled, and you’re going to remember everything we spoke about, all right?”

“Yes, Dr. Hicks.”

Dr. Hicks snapped his fingers. From one instant to the next, Lucy was back, and she looked calm. She said, “I’ve got answers now.”

“Yes,” Savich said, “most of them. No doubt about what happened anymore.”

Coop watched her face change. She looked ineffably sad. Slowly, tears began to stream down her face. “Can you imagine,” she whispered, choking, “my dad saw his mother kill his father, and then he protected her, helped her shove Grandfather into a stupid trunk with a white towel over him? It’s too horrible, what he lived through, and he never told a single person, kept it all deep inside him, until he couldn’t any longer. I wonder if that’s why he never married again, because he could never tell anyone what happened. It was so vivid in his mind, still. In the last moments of his life he was reliving that horrible event.”