I called my father.

He answered on the third ring.

"Lena?"

"I need to know something," I said. "And I need you to tell me the truth."

"What?"

"Did you know Bridget was driving the night Mom died?"

Silence.

"Dad."

"Lena…"

"Yes or no."

A very long pause.

Then, quietly: "Yes."

The floor dropped out from under me.

"You knew."

"It's not that simple…"

"You knew and you let her lie to the police. You knew and you married her anyway. You knew and you let me live with her for twelve years."

"She's my wife…"

"She killed my mother!" I was shouting now. "She murdered her and you knew...