Lizzie longed for her father to stop—to leave the poor man to his private misery—but she didn't dare intervene. It struck her that her father and the sex offender were roughly the same age, that they were both relatively young and futureless. Rebecca had slipped a small notepad out of her pocket and was scribbling away ferociously like a cub journalist.

"We should have you over for dinner one night," said Bill. "I'm sure my wife would love to meet you—and it might be good for you to get out of the house."

Rex stared at his own hands. "I wouldn't want to impose . . ."

"Nonsense. It would be our pleasure," said Lizzie's father. "We'll have to do it sooner rather than later, though, because it turns out I'm dying. Holes in the brain. Like a giant sponge. But it's not contagious—not unless I donate a cornea to you, at least—so there's nothing to worry about."

"I don't like to leave my grandmother alone," said Rex.

"That's very conscientious of you," answered Bill.

"But we could find a way to work around that. Maybe one of the girls could stay with her . . ."

"I don't like to leave my grandmother," Rex said again, but now his voice sounded more desperate, like a man losing his grip on a ledge.

"You'll think it over, Mr. Benbow, won't you?" interjected Lizzie. "When you do decide you're ready to have dinner, you'll give us a call." She had no idea where the words arose from—and they shocked her as much as they did her host. Even Rebecca stopped scribbling and glanced up in surprise.

Rex flashed Lizzie a look of relief and gratitude. "Yes, I'll do that."

Lizzie stood up, and Rex did the same. It was almost as if they had choreographed their interaction in advance. As the pair inched toward the corridor, Sucram finally sensed that their visit was drawing to a close. "I hope you will call," he urged. "You have nothing to be ashamed of—at least as far as we're concerned." Rex Benbow thanked Lizzie's father once again as he led them through the foyer and kept a smile lacquered on his face until he'd shut the door behind them.

Outside, a cold drizzle was falling, transforming the Benbows' front path into a slick of sodden leaves, threatening to catch in the wheels of Sucram's chair. Across the street, Lenny Sand watched them from the front seat of his Buick. He drove off at high speed as they approached the curb.

"We tried, girls," said Lizzie's father. "That's all a person can do."

*           *          *

Julia and Lizzie never made another attempt to discover the contents of the sex offender's knapsack. Nor did Lizzie's father ever receive a phone call from Rex. When Lizzie reflected on the episode, which grew increasingly hazy with each passing year, what she remembered most vividly was neither the night of the break-in, nor the morning of the house call, but the afternoon following their visit, when Julia's father briefly laid siege to their own house.