People could guard their words but never their face or manner. As Bruce’s survivors, she and her children were forced to carry his guilt. How could he have hoarded all those handguns and ammunition without the family knowing about it? Couldn’t they see he was dangerously mentally ill? Why had they pretended so long nothing was wrong? The shooting had turned the whole family into pariahs. Instead of revulsion, Summer’s gray eyes were brimming with tears. “I can’t imagine how horrible that was for you. It doesn’t matter how it happened. You suffered a terrible loss.” She ignored Ellis’s resistance and hugged her anyway. Bruce had died in a barrage of gunfire when cornered by the SWAT team, a fact that was roundly cheered by the media, and even by many of their friends. Virtually alone in her grief, the only thing that kept her going was her kids, especially Allison. The poor girl had been forced to finish out the school year, her days filled with whispers and taunts. “Please don’t tell anyone,”
