Fao positioned himself behind the kitchen island, arms crossed, trying to look casual. It wasn't working. His face was flushed, his breathing still uneven, and every few seconds I saw him shift uncomfortably.
I'd have felt bad for him if I wasn't so mortified.
We'd had a conversation after the first bodies were found — I'd told my mother to stay away from Trevor, and she'd promised. Apparently, that promise hadn't lasted long enough to keep them from driving all the way out here.
I stepped onto the porch as they climbed out of the car. My mother looked exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed. My father looked grim, his jaw set in that way that meant he'd made up his mind about something.
"Mom. Dad." I crossed my arms, blocking the doorway. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you think we're do
