"Just keep walking," I said under my breath. "Head up. Don't run."
Mia's face had gone chalk-white, her gaze unfocused. "Mom!"
I pulled her closer. "Not here."
Across the room, I caught a glimpse of Whitney and Peyton locked in an apparent argument. Whitney's hand on Peyton's upper arm, Peyton shaking her head.
Next to them, Vivienne and Daniel slipped out a side door. Daniel's hand on her back, guiding her away from the chaos.
Only minutes remained before Whitney, Brooke, or Rowan called the police and offered my daughter up on a silver platter.
We reached the heavy oak doors. I shoved them open.
Mia stumbled, blinking against the sudden brightness. Her breath came in shallow bursts. "Are they gonna arrest me? Am I going to prison forever?"
The answer clogged in my throat. I wanted to reassure her, to promise everything would be fine. I couldn't. "They have an eyewitness now. They might arrest you." I squeezed her hand. "I'll get another lawyer. I'll do whatever it takes."
We hurried past pristine lawns and perfectly trimmed hedges. The neighborhood felt hostile and alien.
Mia's phone buzzed in the pocket of her dress. She tugged it out as I half-dragged her along the sidewalk, her face illuminated by the screen's glow.
"Mom." She turned the phone toward me. "It's from Zara."
I read quickly:W and P being weird. Heard them mention beach. W just left in a hurry.
My pulse hammered. The beach. The camera.
If Whitney was headed there, she'd retrieve whatever Peyton had buried. The evidence that might potentially save Mia would disappear forever.
My mind raced through impossible calculations: I couldn't take Mia to the beach. I didn't want her present if Whitney appeared and things turned confrontational. I couldn't leave her at home alone. Not after Chloe's public accusation. Not with the police likely minutes away. They might arrest her while I was gone.
I couldn't trust any of the other mothers.
Except Vivienne.
Viv wasn't involved. Out of everyone, she alone wasn't part of any cover-up, I knew that much. Whatever else had broken between us, she wanted the truth about what happened to her daughter as much as I did, if not more.
I paused on the sidewalk and gripped Mia's shoulders. "Go to Vivienne's house. Right now."
Mia's eyes widened. "Mom, she won't let me in, not after what the detective said about my DNA?—"
"She'll let you in." I had to believe that. Vivienne had loved Miaonce. She'd been the closest thing to a second mother Mia had known. "If she's not there yet, use the spare key under the planter. You know where it is. Wait inside for Viv. Lock the door behind you. Tell her I'm getting evidence that can prove what really happened to Leah."
"What if she kicks me out?"
"She won't." She had to accept Mia. Because every other door in Blackthorn Shores had slammed shut on us. Vivienne was a mother who’d lost her child. If there was a chance the truth was something other than what she'd been told, she would open that door.
I was already turning back toward the street.
"Don't leave me!" Mia grabbed my sleeve, frantic. "Mom, please. About that night?—"
"Ten minutes! I promise." I untangled myself from her grasp. Guilt scorched through me, hot and acidic, for leaving her. I hated myself even as I moved.
If evidence on that beach could save Mia, I had no choice.
I left Mia standing on the sidewalk and sprinted toward the community beach access stairs. Every maternal instinct screamed at me to go back, to hold her, to listen. I ignored it.
The late afternoon sun hung low, a heavy bank of clouds approaching over the horizon. The wind had picked up. The waves roared in the distance.
