The new car he bought me for high school graduation—paid in cash.
"Jesus Christ," I breathe. "He's been doing this since before I was born."
"Since your mother left," Cain says suddenly. "She found out, didn't she?"
Morrison can't answer complex questions, but his eyes tell us everything.
"That's why she left," I say numbly. "Not because she couldn't handle being a cop's wife. Because she discovered what he really was."
"The Lockwoods," Cain says suddenly, his voice sharp with realization. "They knew."
Morrison's eyes go wide.
One blink.
"They had evidence on Sterling. That's why he never investigated the abuse."
One blink.
"That's why their deaths were ruled accidental so quickly."
One blink.
I'm going to be sick.
My father knew Cain and Juliette were being abused and did nothing because their parents had dirt on him.
He sacrificed children to protect his secret.
Children the same age as me.
"Jesus," I breathe. "Richard Lockwood probably supplied kids to the trafficking ring. That's how he knew. He was part of it."
One blink.
Cain goes very still. "My adoptive father trafficked children."
One blink.
"Through Sterling's network."
One blink.
"Some of those children... they came through our house."
One blink.
I watch Cain process this, see something shift in his eyes.
Not guilt—he was a child, a victim.
But understanding.
The scope of the evil he was raised in, that we were both raised adjacent to.
"Where's the evidence?" Cain demands. "Where did Richard keep it?"
Morrison can't answer, can only blink frantically, his eyes rolling upward.