Detective Callahan held out the cuffs.
"Please don't do that," I begged. "You don't need to do that. She's a kid. She's not a threat."
Callahan did it anyway. "Hands."
Mia hesitated. Then she lifted her wrists. The metal cuffs clicked shut. They looked obscene on her slim wrists, too big, too heavy. Mia's shoulders curled inward as if she could make herself disappear.
Pure panic clawed at my insides. Instinctively, my hand found the ring at my throat. I clutched it so hard the chain dug into the back of my neck.
Marcus was gone. Now I was losing Mia, too.
King turned to me. His expression softened. The lines around his eyes deepened with genuine sympathy. "You can follow us to the station and have Mia's lawyer meet us there."
Mia no longer had a lawyer. What were we going to do?
As if reading my mind, King said, "We can assign a public lawyer for her."
A public lawyer. For my daughter. For murder.
"Let's go." King touched Mia's elbow. He was gentle, not rough, which made me hate him more. The uniformed officers flanked him as they passed me with Mia in tow, small and fragile and terrified. King steered Mia toward the foyer.
"Mom!" Mia twisted to find me. Her eyes were drowning. "Mommy, please! Don't let them take me away!"
The sound pierced me like a spear to the heart. My daughter calling for me to protect her when I stood powerless. My vision tunneled until all I could see was Mia's terrified face.
I took one step after her.
The nearest officer lifted a palm to stop me. "Ma'am," hewarned.
I froze. My arms hung uselessly at my sides. Every cell in my body screamed to grab her, to run, to fight. But there was nothing I could do. Nothing.
"Let me tell her—" I didn't know what. That I was sorry? That I should have known? That I should have been a better mother, prevented all this somehow? I couldn't bear to lie to her with platitudes. We both knew nothing was okay. "I love you. Be strong. You are so strong. I love you so much."
Her hair fell into her face. "Please don't be mad."
Then they hustled her out the door.
Numbly, I followed into the hall, past Vivienne's framed family photos. Leah's fourth-grade picture smiled out at me with her porcupine bangs and gap-toothed grin.
I stood on the front porch and watched them take my daughter away. The lights flashed over the porch. The police cruiser pulled away from the curb. It rolled down the street, turned the corner, and was gone.
Daniel stood in the doorway behind me, his arm around his wife’s shoulder, keeping her physically upright. The porch light carved shadows under Vivienne's eyes. Grief had hollowed her out. Her face was a stranger's.
"I didn't know." It sounded like pleading. Like defense. I hated how small it was. "Viv, I swear, I didn't know."
"You brought her into my house. You let her stand in my kitchen. You both lied to me." She was shaking. Her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides. "My daughter is dead."
"I know." I could feel my heartbeat in my mouth. My pain was nothing compared to Vivienne's. Despite everything, my daughter was alive. Vivienne's was not. "Viv, please. I'm sorry, so incredibly sorry."
Daniel stiffened. His once kind face had gone cold and hard. "You need to leave." He didn't raise his voice. The quiet finality in his tone made it worse. "Now."
The grief staggered me. I could barely stand under the weight ofit. Accident or not, my daughter did this. My daughter had killed someone. Ended the life of their child.
I reached out my hand. "Viv?—"
"Go!" Daniel's voice boomed. He tightened his protective hold on his wife, holding her upright as she collapsed into him, disintegrating right in front of me. "You've done enough damage here."
They turned away. Daniel ushered his wife inside. The door closed in my face.
