Rex Benbow stood in the doorway, wearing the same plaid hunting cap. His arms hung limp and simian at his sides. Lizzie's father introduced himself for the second time and extended his hand to the sex offender. Rex shook it tentatively.

"These are my daughters," said Lizzie's dad. "Elizabeth and Rebecca."

Lizzie waited for Rex to recognize her. She contemplated denying his accusations: It would be her word against his, a teenager against a convicted predator. In the nearby hedge, chickadees and titmice cavorted innocently. Lizzie felt the sex offender's gaze on her, but she dared not meet it.

"Glad to meet you both," said Rex.

Rebecca volunteered her hand to the sex offender. Lizzie felt obliged to offer hers as well. The man's grip was lifeless, but his dull eyes met hers and sealed their secret. Lizzie suddenly understood that Benbow feared her more than she feared him—and that this daytime visit caused him far more pain than had their nighttime intrusion.

"May we come in?" asked Sucram.

The sex offender hesitated for a moment and then opened the door fully, allowing Lizzie's father to wheel into the foyer. "You'll forgive me for not having anything to offer you," said Rex. "We don't get many visitors."

Rex Benbow led them down the same corridor that Lizzie had explored with Julia earlier that week, taking them into a tidy, dimly lit sitting room. The furnishings, sturdy and utilitarian, recalled the 1950s. A bricked-up fireplace defined one of the walls, and near the heavily shaded bay windows three tall stools surrounded a coaster bar. The upholstery reeked of stale tobacco. Not only did the place appear ordinary, Lizzie noted, but it also looked rather shabby.

At the sex offender's behest, the girls seated themselves around the coffee table. Sucram drew up his chair alongside their host's. And then the interruption of the previous evening replayed itself.

"Who's there?" cried Alice Benbow.

"It's all right, Grandma," Rex called out. "It's just the neighbors." He turned to them and added, apologetically, "She won't remember in ten minutes."

How different Lizzie felt about the grandmother now: In the light of day, she pitied the unfortunate woman imprisoned with her exiled offspring. She almost felt sorry for the sex offender himself. Rex was sitting with his hands folded in his lap, jaw clenched, clearly waiting for the visit to end—but Sucram seemed utterly oblivious to the poor man's discomfort.

"What I came over here to say," Lizzie's father was saying, "is that I know everyone in Pontefract hasn't been entirely welcoming to you, but I don't want you to think that those elements represent the entire community. Or even the majority. As far as I'm concerned, people have a right to atone for their mistakes. You've served your time. Whatever you've done in the past is now between you and your conscience."

"Thank you," said Rex.