“Shh.” Lara puts her hand on his head to guide him to the back door. A low thunder grumbles outside. “He’s in the car, I told you. Come on now.” She unlatches and opens the door, minimizing the ever-present creak as much as possible, although they are far enough away from Frank that it perhaps doesn’t matter. Outside, the rain comes in a steady stream, small rivulets washing past the backdoor and around to the yard. It is early-morning April cool, and she huddles her arms together. A wet breeze stirs. She looks up, but there is no moon, no stars, just the hint of heavy shadows from black clouds somewhere in the night. Heavy drops pour from the sky. Louis darts across the soggy yard over to the rusty station wagon.