“I met Sarah.”
“I know,” he said softly. “She called me afterward.”
“There’s still a lot we don’t know.”
“Yes.”
“But I want you to help me find out.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “I’ll do whatever I can.”
I closed my eyes.
I still remembered standing outside Room 214, convinced that my uncle had brought me there for a reason I was too frightened to name.
I remembered the way his eyes had made me uncomfortable, the way his voice had sounded in the quiet hallway, and the terrible thoughts I had carried into that room.
I didn’t regret being cautious. I didn’t regret protecting myself.
But I had learned something I wished I had understood sooner.
Fear can warn us when something is wrong, but fear alone cannot tell us the whole truth.
Richard had frightened me because he approached me with questions he couldn’t explain and secrets he wasn’t ready to reveal. His silence had made him look guilty. His behavior had given my imagination room to create the worst possible story about him.
