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was it possible for someone to change that much? "You wanta talk truth? I live in the presence of great truth. That's the truth you left behind." She pointed toward Penny's door. "Right there in that bedroom."
    Flint reflexively looked in the direction that Emma was pointing and was startled to see Penny's limpid eyes peering at him from the narrow opening in the doorframe. He could see that she was clutching the packet of letters to her chest. He could see the recognition dawning in her eyes, and the indisputable look of pleasure upon seeing him.
    Let Emma scream at me. Let her vent. Let her blame me for everything. Ain't nothing she can say that one smile from fenny can't turn right around.
    Emma was still yelling at him, but now Flint was ignoring her. Instead he took a step toward the bedroom. Tossing aside hesitation, Penny threw wide the door and her smile broadened. At first Emma didn't see her, because Marko had stepped into her line of vision as he faced his daughter. Then he knelt down in front of her, like a humble supplicant, and whispered, "Your mother's got me all wrong. I
do
care about you."
    Penny's smile was incandescent, and Flint felt her press something small into his palm. He looked down at it and was surprised to see a small locket. He was so taken by the gesture that he actually forgot that Emma was in the room, but was reminded harshly enough when she shrieked in fury and came right at him. She was acting as if he were some sort of monster or child molester or anything but what he truly was: a loving father stealing a few seconds of affection from his daughter.
    "You get outta here!" Emma bellowed, and she shoved Flint, hard. Because he was crouched and she was standing over him, she came close to knocking him to the floor. Flint stopped his fall with an outstretched hand and clambered to his feet. Emma aimed a kick at him and missed. Penny looked terrified. The irony was not lost on Marko; here Emma thought she was protecting her daughter and all she was really accomplishing was scaring the crap out of her. "Out of my life, outta my daughter's life! Always hiding, climbing in 'n' out of windows! Look at you, never having the pleasure of knocking on a front door. Now get out!"
    For a fleeting moment, he considered punching her in the face, breaking her teeth. At least that would get her to shut up for a short time so he could have a few seconds to think. But it went against the grain, and besides, it would just alarm Penny. Plus Emma would use that as an example for the rest of Penny's life as to why her dad was a bad, evil man.
    Then the entire matter of staying became moot when Marko heard the distant sound of a siren. It might not have anything to do with him. Might be a fire or some police activity nearby. On the other hand, it might also be that a neighbor had spotted him and called the cops. He couldn't take the chance.
    Quickly he headed for the window. He put one leg over the sill, turned, and said in a final endeavor to gain sympathy, "I'm not a bad guy. I just had bad luck."
    Emma displayed about as much compassion as he had expected—none. "There you go," she remarked, as if everything she'd just said was supported by his exit. "Out another window."
    "Pray for me!" he called as he exited the apartment.
    He stood on the fire escape, out of sight of the apartment's interior. From within, he could hear Emma attempting to console Penny… except, curiously, Penny didn't sound at all upset. Emma was the one who sounded as if she needed consoling. There was none of the furious bravado or anger that had been present when she'd been talking to him. Instead she just sounded… sad.
    He heard Penny say, "I think he was going to cry, Mama."
    Perceptive kid
. Marko blinked his eyes hard, trying to get the last of the tears out of the way.
    "He always cried," Emma told her. That much was true as well. He'd cried when they'd married. When Penny was born. When Penny was diagnosed. When he'd been dragged