“We were just about to head out,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

“Out where?” Richard asked.

He stepped into the dining room, letting the heavy front door click shut behind him.

He did not take off his overcoat.

“Claire wanted to grab a bite to eat at the diner,” I said.

Richard’s gaze drifted down to Claire’s arms, which were locked awkwardly behind her back.

“Is that so?” he asked.

He took three slow steps toward her.

“What do you have there, Claire?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

Her voice was tight, but she didn’t flinch.

Richard held out his hand, palm up.

“Show me,” he said.

The grandfather clock in the corner struck five, the deep chimes filling the room like physical blows.

“It’s my school project, Dad,” Claire said, using the title with a coldness that made him blink.

“I don’t like being lied to,” Richard said.

He took another step, his polished black shoes squeaking on the hardwood.

I stepped between them, my shoulder brushing against Richard’s chest.

“Let her go, Richard,” I said.