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was so saddened by the stories in the paper,” I said without thought. “I remember her sharing them with me and crying. She said it wasn’t just the serial killer who stole children, however.” I looked at my sisters and shook my head. “She said the FBI had been doing it for a long, long time and no one had the guts to challenge them on it.”
    Piper looked at her plate and pushed it back. “Why would she say things like that?”
    “Because she was afraid it was true,” Geena replied. “Mom had problems like that. She was afraid of a lot of things.”
    “Aren’t we all?” Piper said.
    She was right, but I didn’t want to comment. I wanted the conversation to move to other topics. Instead, Geena forced the subject to become more personal for me.
    “Does being afraid keep you from agreeing to get serious about Mark Delahunt?”
    I looked at her in surprise. “Why do you ask that?”
    A hint of a smile crept onto her face. “Don’t you think it’s time someone did? I mean, he’s quite the catch, if you ask me.”
    “I didn’t.”
    Geena laughed. “You are so touchy about anything related to him. I think you care a great deal about him.”
    “Maybe I do, but that doesn’t mean it’s open for discussion.”
    “We’re supposed to be close, right? You expect us to freely discuss our love lives,” Geena replied.
    “Or lack thereof,” Piper added.
    “But I’m your big sister. I’m supposed to ask about those kinds of things,” I protested.
    “Oh really?” Geena looked at me with a raised brow. “Where’s that one written down? Is there a secret handbook for firstborns that I don’t know about?”
    The conversation was getting completely out of hand and I knew there was only one way to get the topic off of my dating or not dating Mark. “Look,” I said, “Dad gets here in twenty-four hours. We need to decide what we’re going to do.” It was a cheap shot, but I knew I had to take it. “Are we going to ask him for the truth?”

Chapter 5

    T he next day we waited rather impatiently. With spaghetti simmering on the stove, we watched the clock, feeling the tension mount as we anticipated Dad’s arrival. We’d all agreed that we would talk to him about the past and clear the air once and for all. We just weren’t sure how to go about such a task. Should we eat first and then bring it up? Should we just get right to it and use food as a distraction when things got rough? Unfortunately, there wasn’t a manual that told you how to go about confronting your father for murdering your mother.
    Piper had suggested we make Dad a special meal, and so the spaghetti supper was born. Geena and I had long ago mastered a recipe that everyone seemed to like, so we went to work on that while Piper put together a salad and garlic bread.
    By the time Dad arrived, the rain had stopped. He came into the house and stood for a moment just looking around. We hadn’t seen him since Piper’s graduation and that had been for only a few hours. He was always traveling for business, it seemed.
    “Well, the remodel was money well invested,” he said, turning to where the three of us girls stood. “You have any trouble getting here?” He put his suitcases by the stairs.
    “No. We pretty much drove right to it, thanks to the GPS,” Geena answered.
    “And the caretakers had it clean and fully stocked,” I added.
    “I don’t remember much about this place or town,” Piper offered with a sigh. “I feel like it’s all new to me.”
    He nodded but changed the subject. “What smells so good?”
    “We made a special dinner . . . spaghetti,” Piper said, smiling. “We used the very best ingredients—fresh everything. Come and sit.”
    Why did I have the feeling we were coaxing an old dog to the vet to be put down? Dad’s whole demeanor was foreign to me. He was still the same no-nonsense sort of man, but there was something about him that I couldn’t quite figure out. I’d had that feeling at Piper’s