My chest tightened. Had she heard the news already?
Rowan crossed the room to her daughter. "Sweetheart, what are you doing up? I thought you were resting."
"I saw it," Chloe said. "It's all over Instagram."
"Oh, honey?—"
Chloe's face crumpled. "I keep having nightmares. Everything's dark, and I'm screaming. I can't stop screaming. I keep trying to save her, but I can't. She just keeps falling, over and over. I'm so, so sorry."
"Shh, baby, it's okay." Rowan wrapped her arms around Chloe, stroking her hair. "They're just nightmares. They can't hurt you. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."
She glanced at me, tears spilling down her cheeks. "What if there was something I could've done?”
"Did you remember anything else?" I asked.
Chloe hesitated, pursing her rosebud mouth. She was poised, articulate, and charismatic, the kind of precocious, polite girl that adults instantly adored, though she'd always seemed sensitive and a little fragile, striving to meet Rowan's standards, though Rowan herself treated Chloe like something delicate, requiring constant protection.
Chloe shook her head mutely. "I'm letting Leah down."
"Of course, you aren't." Rowan frowned slightly as she guided her daughter toward the stairs, one arm around her shoulders. Obediently, Chloe went with her mother. "There's nothing any of you could have done. Come on. Let's get you back to bed."
Whitney bent and retrieved her dropped Stanley, then she straightened and smoothed her outfit. "I should go. I have Pilates and tennis, and I need to be there when Peyton gets home from school."
Rowan said over her shoulder. "Go be with your daughter. That's what matters most."
Brooke set her empty wineglass on the coffee table. "I should go, too. I have to pick up Falcon soon, and Alexis…" Her voice trailed off.
Brooke and Whitney gathered their things, gave me perfunctory hugs, and hurried out the door. The homicide announcement had changed everything. They weren't just leaving; they were fleeing. I heard their murmured goodbyes, the click of Percival's leash, his yapping bark.
The house went quiet. I stood in the middle of the living room, unsure if I should leave as well.
A moment later, Rowan descended the stairs. Her expression softened. "Dahlia, stay a moment?"
I nodded, relieved. "Of course."
We collected the plates, mugs, and glasses from the breakfast table. I followed Rowan to the sink, wanting to help, to be useful.
Rowan scraped the uneaten scones into the trash, set the dishware in the sink, and turned to me. "I know this must be so hard for you. Especially after everything with Marcus. Losing him so suddenly, so violently. And now this. Another tragedy touching your family."
I flinched. "It's not about me. It's about Leah. About Vivienne."
"Of course. But you've been through so much already. It's a lot to bear. We're all thinking of Vivienne and Daniel now, but no one's thinking of you."
My throat tightened. "I just keep thinking… what if the police don't believe Mia? What if they think?—?"
"They won't." Rowan took my hands in hers. Her grip was firm. "Because Mia did nothing wrong, just like Chloe didn't. We all know that. Anyone who knows her knows that."
Tears pricked my eyes. "Thank you. I just… I don't know what I'd do if they took Mia from me, if I lost her."
Rowan's eyes held mine. "Camille is representing Mia. She's the best defense attorney in Berrien County."
"You're right," I managed. "I know you're right."
She squeezed my hands once more before releasing them. "You're not alone. You have us."
The words settled over me like a warm and cozy blanket. For the first time since Saturday morning, the crushing weight on my chest eased a fraction. I had friends. Real friends who would stand by me, who would help me keep my daughter safe.
But the thought niggled at the back of my mind, refusing to dissipate. Safe from what?
