“Don’t,” I tell her. “Forget she exists.”
“Ubert lets us talk to her on the phone, silly,” Emily replies like I’m the i***t. “Plus, I don’t want to forget she exists. Oh, Carlo, can’t you just—”
“What?” I snpa. “Forget that she lied to me? Forget that her father is the man I’ve been fighting with most of my life? Forget that she set a f*****g child murderer free—”
“Her brother,” Emily corrects. “She set her brother free.”
“People around here talk too much.”
“Don’t do that,” she whispers.
“Don’t make me dislike you.”
“Emily, what don’t you understand? She’s Colleen Sweeney. She’s Fergal’s daughter. She’s been lying to us this whole time. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
She closes her laptop so loudly I almost jump. It’s very un-Emily like. “Part of being a writer is putting your
