"Stop right there." Camille's voice cut through the room like a scalpel. "That's enough."
Detective King raised his hands, his expression neutral. "We're simply trying to ascertain what happened."
"I know exactly what you're trying to do, detective," Camille said. "This is an unfortunate, tragic accident. Nothing more."
Detective Callahan's expression hardened. "With all due respect, a girl is dead. We'll need to speak with each of the girls to determine what happened."
Rowan straightened to her full height, commanding and authoritative, the gracious but cut-throat PTA president again. "Detectives, these children have been through a trauma. They need rest and comfort. A calming environment, not more stress."
"Which is why we need their accounts while memories are fresh," Callahan said. "Before details get confused."
"Not without our lawyers present," Whitney said.
Mia stared up at me in alarm, as if I could save her. But I couldn't. I couldn't afford a lawyer. I could barely afford Netflix after our monthly bills. My whole body went numb.
Camille shot a questioning glance at Rowan. Something unspoken passed between them, then Rowan moved swiftly to my side. She put her arm around my shoulder, bent, and whispered in my ear, "Don't worry."
I nodded stiffly. The room seemed to contract around me. It was difficultto breathe.
Camille stepped between the detectives and Mia. "I am a defense attorney with Hayward and Monroe, and I now represent Mia Kincaid. All communication should go through me. If you'd like to speak with Mia, we can agree on a time that's conducive to the Kincaid's schedule."
Callahan's eye twitched. "We'll need to speak to her as soon as possible."
"My client will make herself available for an interview at a mutually agreed-upon time, with counsel present," Camille said.
The detectives didn't look happy, but they grudgingly agreed. I'd never been more relieved to have Camille at our side.
King said, "At your earliest convenience, then."
Camille's jaw tightened, but she nodded curtly.
King took a step closer to Mia. "In the meantime, we'll need to photograph those injuries and take samples of the substance under your fingernails, Mia."
My gut clenched. "No. Absolutely not."
Callahan glowered at Camille. "We either take the samples right now, or we detain Mia and transport her to the station, where an officer will watch her in a cell until we get a search warrant, probably within the hour. Your choice."
Dizziness washed through me. It felt like everything had gone distant and fuzzy, like this wasn't really happening; it was a bad dream, unreal. Detaining Mia? A search warrant? For what?
"Go get the search warrant then," Camille snapped, "and I'll slap you with a lawsuit so fast your heads will spin."
"You're welcome to try." Callahan nodded at a nearby uniformed officer, who took out a set of handcuffs. "Cuff her and take her to the car."
Mia let out an alarmed gasp. "Mom!"
"Wait, no!" I said. I couldn't imagine the trauma to Mia, to be dragged out of Rowan's house for all the neighbors to see. For what? For a terrible accident she had no part in? That couldn't happen. I couldn't let it happen. "We consent. Don't take her anywhere. Do it here."
Camille shook her head. "Dahlia?—"
But she didn't understand. It wasn't her daughter. It was mine.
My throat closed. I looked at Mia. Her face had gone pale, her eyes wide and glassy. She looked utterly terrified.
The thought of them photographing her like evidence made me physically ill. But what choice did we have?
"Fine," I said. "Just... make it quick."
King made a call, and a few minutes later, two evidence technicians arrived. They brought Mia to Rowan's den, with Camille and me present, where they swabbed her and took scrapings from beneath her nails.
