a flat expression, “Ma’am, I need you to come with me.”
I looked up, panicked. “Is my son alive?”
His eyes flicked away for half a second, as if he knew something but didn’t want to spill the secret.
“Please,” I whispered. “Is Grant alive?”
He swallowed. “He’ll explain everything.”
The officer got in front and started driving.
I glanced back into my house. The table was set. The food was waiting. The candles were dying.
“My children were supposed to be here,” I heard myself say.
He hesitated. “I’m sorry.”
I should’ve called Mark, anyway. Instead, I grabbed my cardigan, locked the door out of habit, and got into the cruiser. The back seat smelled like disinfectant and old fear. The door shut with a heavy click that made my stomach drop.
The officer got in front and started driving.
“Just tell me if my son is okay.”
“Where
