The boy didn’t reply, but his tears grew in intensity which was, perhaps, the only answer Rathe needed.
“Your dad told me about the time you heard your mum accuse him of trying to kill her,” Rathe said, his voice gentle once more, “after she’d found the sleeping pills. He told me about how you have a habit of walking into a room without anyone knowing it. You did just that when I was here the other day, remember? But you hadn’t just walked in, had you? You’d been outside for a while, silently listening to us. You’d overheard me talking to your mum, just as you’d overheard her accusing your dad. And you heard her telling a stranger about her fears that your dad was going to kill her. Didn’t you?”
This time, the boy fought for his voice. “Yeah… ”
Rathe replaced the rosary and moved behind
