The house still smelled like their father: pipe smoke and cold coffee. Mara, Theo, and Diane stood in the hallway together for the first time in nine years. Nobody spoke. Then Theo bumped the old record cabinet and the back panel slid loose. Behind it sat a hidden shelf, and on it were dozens of cassette tapes, each one labeled in their father's tight handwriting.

Diane stepped back with her hands up. "I don't want to know what's on those. He lied to us our whole lives. Why give him one more chance to talk?" She turned for the door. "Box them up, throw them out, I don't care. I'm leaving."