“What did you find out?”

He didn’t answer right away. Plainly, he wasn’t sure himself. “They said they could teach Brian to talk. And to read people’s lips so he’d know what they were saying.”

“That’s wonderful!” Sarah exclaimed.

But Malloy plainly didn’t think so. “I can’t see it, myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“They had a boy there. He could tell what I was saying, even though he can’t hear. He could read my lips. And he could talk, too. Not real clear, but I could understand him.”

“Then that proves it’s possible.”

“Yes, but… He wasn’t born deaf. He had scarlet fever when he was about five, I think. He’d already learned to talk. He knows what people’s voices sound like. Brian doesn’t.”

He’d obviously given this matter considerable thought. She would’ve been disappointed in him if he hadn’t, of course. “I suppose it would be much more difficult to learn to speak if you’d never heard a human voice.”

“I also found out there’s another way to teach deaf people.”

“There is? What is it?”

“I don’t know. The fellow I talked to at the Lexington Avenue School told me, though. He didn’t mean to. He must’ve thought I’d talked to the other people first, so he tried to convince me his way of teaching was the best. That’s how I know there’s another way.”

Naturally, Malloy would be suspicious. He was always suspicious. And he wouldn’t miss a single clue, even if it wasn’t a clue to solving a crime. “You should certainly investigate all the possibilities before you decide what to do,” she said.

He scratched his chin and looked out at the flowers again. “I was hoping you’d know what those other possibilities were.”

Sarah smiled a little, since he wasn’t looking at her. Then she considered. “I have seen deaf people talking with their hands,” she remembered.

“Their hands?”

“Yes, they have some sort of sign language they use.”

“Were they talking, too?”

“I don’t think so. Did the boy at the school use sign language?”

“No.”

“Then maybe that’s the other method they use, the one the Lexington Avenue School thinks isn’t as good.”

“I can see why. A deaf person wouldn’t be able to talk to someone who doesn’t know the sign language.”

“But if the deaf person couldn’t learn to talk, how else could he communicate?”

Malloy scratched his chin again. “I guess that’s what I’ll have to find out.”

SARAH DECIDED HER presence at her parents’ home was a measure of how desperate she was to solve these murders. She approached their house with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d hardly slept the night before, and she’d spent every waking hour reliving all the arguments she’d had with her father through the years. In memory, at least, she hadn’t won any of them.

Remembering how they had fought, however, she realized her father must be deranged to want to see her again. He should count himself well rid of such an ungrateful child. But of course he didn’t. He either loved her very much or else he couldn’t stand the thought that something of his existed outside of his control. Sarah thought it might well be a little of both. She couldn’t condemn him, though. Her own motives for renewing their relationship were hardly pure.

The maid opened the door almost before she knocked, and from her wide-eyed expression, she was well aware of how momentous this visit was. “Mr. and Mrs. Decker is waiting for you in the back parlor, Mrs. Brandt,” she said. “I’ll show you in.”

The back parlor was where the family would normally gather, not where they would receive guests. The location was important. It told Sarah they were welcoming her home. She was still an intimate part of their family. She only hoped that was still true when this visit was over.

The maid showed her in, and she found her parents sitting stiffly on the sofa, awaiting her arrival with the same apprehension she herself was feeling. Her mother rose instantly to her feet, but her father was slower getting up. Did he seem reluctant or merely unable to rise more quickly?

Sarah was struck by how much older he looked than she remembered. He was thinner, his face drawn, and although he was still much taller than she, he looked somehow smaller than she remembered, somehow shrunken. She recalled what her mother had said about his stomach problems and wondered if that had caused the change in his appearance.

He didn’t smile. He was much too cautious a man to let his feelings show so openly. He would wait for his cue from her. There would be no unseemly display of emotion.

“Father, how wonderful to see you,” Sarah said, feeling the nerves fluttering in her stomach. She went forward, offering him both of her hands.

He took them in a grip so hard it was almost painful as his pale blue eyes searched her face, taking in every detail of her appearance. “You’re looking well,” he determined, his voice strained.

“I’m feeling well,” she confirmed. “My work keeps me busy and happy.”

She saw the flicker of disapproval he couldn’t quite hide, but she had to admire the way he refrained from uttering the slightest word of criticism. By this she judged how anxious he was to repair their relationship.

“Please, sit down,” her mother said too brightly. “I’ll ring for tea.”

Sarah sat in the chair beside her father, amazed at how her hands ached after he released them. He’d been clinging so tightly he’d almost bruised them.

They chatted about the weather and Sarah’s trip uptown-her father was probably horrified that she’d taken the elevated train, but he managed not to betray it-until the maid had finished serving and left them alone.

When the door closed behind her, an awkward silence fell. They all knew someone must say something, something momentous, but no one knew quite what that something should be. Perhaps her father thought she should apologize for abandoning them, but she wasn’t going to do that. She had been the one offended and felt that she was the one due an apology. She couldn’t imagine her father would offer one, however. As far as she knew, he had never apologized for anything in his life. To do so would be to admit he had been wrong, and he probably believed he never had been.

Unable to think of anything appropriate, Sarah sat silent. Sooner or later her father would say what he wanted her to hear. She was prepared for anything. Or at least she thought she was until he said, “We’ve missed you, Sarah.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she said quite honestly. Although she had friends and a profession that fulfilled her, nothing and no one could take the place of family. Not even a family who had hurt each other as much as hers had.

“Your father regrets… we both regret,” her mother quickly amended when he gave her a sharp glance, “the harsh words that were spoken after poor Tom…”

“I’m sure we all regret that,” Sarah said quickly, coming to her mother’s rescue. Had her father asked her mother to apologize for him? No, she realized, judging his expression. His impatience was evident.

“I still believe no respectable woman should live alone and earn her own living,” he said, confirming her theory.

Oddly, she found his statement reassuring. He hadn’t changed. And if he was still the same, as infuriating as he might be, she knew exactly how to deal with him.

“I know you don’t understand the choices I’ve made,” she allowed him. “But the fact is, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need your blessing to live my life the way I see fit”

His lips tightened a bit. He wasn’t used to such resistance, certainly not from a female and his own child. Her mother, she knew, resisted him frequently, but she used feminine wiles and charm to soften the blow. Sarah had no skill and certainly no patience for such wiles.

But to his credit, her father chose not to argue. Instead he said, “You’ve always had a mind of your own, Sarah. You’re very like me in that respect.”