There had been no searches of the house. Grandpa, Grandma, Elio, and I immediately went to Michael’s area to talk. I was anxious to set Michael free from his enclosure in my bedroom wall, but Grandpa said he first had to determine whether anything had been said that might have directed suspicion toward our house or Michael. He asked Grandma to go first so she could get to bed as soon as possible. She appeared exhausted, her fleshy cheeks and chin sagging more than usual, and unruly strands of her hair drifted over her face. In a weak, trembling voice she said that nothing during her interrogation had indicated there was any suspicion about what we were doing in the house. Grandpa was unsatisfied with this general assessment; he wanted the exact wording, as close as she could remember, of each question and each answer. She began to cry. I was afraid she was about to confess to something awful having happened, but instead, between sobs she said she was so tired that she couldn’t remember a single specific thing she’d been asked.
