"Mia, I need to tell you something. About Leah. The police announced?—"
"I already know, Mom. It's all over Instagram. It's all anyone is talking about."
She angled the phone away from me, but not before I glimpsed that familiar pink emblem on the screen. Captions and images scrolled past too swiftly to read. Her knuckles were white around her phone case.
"I'm so sorry you had to find out that way."
Hervoice was flat. "They're saying it was murder. That she—that someone killed her."
"The police will figure out what happened," I said carefully. "They'll find the truth."
"What if they don't?" She turned to look at me, her eyes glassy, unfocused, like she'd been crying. "What if they think…" She cut herself off and stared down at her phone.
"Mia—"
"Can we just go home?"
My chest tightened. I didn't want to push her. I didn't know what to say, how to make any of this better. "You want to stop at Forté Coffee for some hazelnut lattes on the way?"
It was usually her favorite treat. She shook her head and slumped deeper into the seat.
The rest of the car ride home was silent. At the Blackthorn Shores security gate, several white vans were pulled off to the side of the road. A dozen people stood on the berm, setting up video cameras and microphones.
I drove past them and pulled up at the security gate. "Great, the media is here."
Frank Hastings, the head of security, gave me a friendly smile as he waved us through. In his late fifties, with a beer belly and salt-and-pepper beard, Frank had always treated Mia and me with the same easy warmth he gave everyone else, regardless of our tax bracket. "Vultures, more like it. Don't worry, we won't let them in."
"Thank you, Frank. I appreciate that."
He smiled at Mia, but she didn't look up from her phone. "You have a nice day now."
"You, too." I drove down maple-lined Cliff Harbor Drive, past the clubhouse and the playground, where a few nannies watched their charges climbing the jungle gym. Alexis sat on the bench, scrolling on her phone while her younger brother Falcon played on the swings.
"You want to head to the playground to hang out with Alexis fora while? I bought cinnamon rolls at Martins, so you could bring her and Falcon one."
"I'll pass."
"Just a thought."
"I'm fine, Mom."
A minute later, I turned left onto Wyld Wood Lane. At Camille's house, Zion was practicing basketball on their circular driveway.
Mia slung her backpack over her shoulder as we exited the car and approached the house.
Something wasn't right.
I couldn't name it at first. Just—wrongness. A prickle at the base of my skull.
I unlocked the front door and stuffed my keys in my purse. Inside, the house felt too quiet, too still. Mia dropped her backpack by the stairs. She glanced back at me, her features tense; she felt it, too.
"Apollo?" I called.
The dog appeared from the kitchen, his tail wagging. Apollo trotted over immediately, circling Mia and whining softly before sitting at her feet and placing one heavy paw on her shoe, his way of sayingI'm here, love me.
For the first time since we'd left Rowan's house on Saturday morning, something in Mia's face softened. She patted his head, then headed straight for the stairs. "I've got a ton of homework."
"Wait." I grabbed her arm gently. "Stay here for a second."
