I turned and walked back to the car. The door shut with a thud. It was strange, but I felt happiness. Not for me—for the kids. They had laughed again. Had a proper dinner—even if it was only for a night. It was some kind of normal life again.
But then sadness pressed in just as hard.
For Lacey.
For myself.
For them too.
I started the car and drove back to Lacey’s house. By now, it was the only place I had. I’d sold my own house. Every dollar had gone to legal fees, to keeping the kids fed, to keeping the lights on while Brian was out of work.
The street was quiet when I pulled up. The reporters were gone. No cameras. No voices calling out questions. After weeksof silence on our end, even the most stubborn ones had finally given up.
The door creaked as I opened it, and my hand lifted toward the light switch.
But then my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Dylan again?
Detective Nolan?
The bright white screen lit up the entryway from an unknown local number.
I answered. “Hello?”
The sound hit first. Crying, high and panicked. Kids. And, beneath it, a woman sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.
“Is this Nicole?” The voice was hard to hear over the crying kids in the background.
I knew instantly who it was. Mrs. Dustin.
“Yes!”
“It’s Sam. Billy’s wife. We met at the playground.”
“What happened?”
A shaky breath. More crying in the background.
“Um … I don’t know who else to call. I’m so sorry.”
“No. No, it’s fine. What happened?”
“Can … can you come get us?”
“Yes. Of course. Are you safe? Is he there?”
“No. He left to get cigarettes.”
“Good. Do you have your car and car keys?”
“Yes.”
“Listen to me. Get in your car right now and meet me at the playground.”
“But I can’t just take the kids away from him.”
“Yes, you can. Grab your kids. Now. And meet me there as soon as you can.”
