“He was a father in biology only. He didn’t talk about you. Not once in the past five years.” That shut him up. Michael moved toward the base of the attic stairs. “Still locked?” he asked. She didn’t answer. He ran his hand along the banister, fingers trailing dust.
“You ever wonder if he was hiding something from you? Not protecting you but punishing you.” “I’m not doing this.” “Maybe he wanted to be sure no one found what he really was.” “I said—” Michael turned, voice suddenly low.