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“Sybil?”

The fear in her voice hit harder than anything O’Shea had said.

“I’m okay,” I told her, because apparently my first instinct after being arrested for murder was to lie badly to the woman who had raised me.

Laurie’s breath shuddered over the line. “Rick called us. Pamela’s here with me. We know where you are.”

“I didn’t kill Justin.”

“I know that’s what you’re telling us, and I believe you. More importantly, you’re not handling any of this alone.”

My eyes burned.

I leaned forward, pressing my free hand against my forehead while the beige wall blurred in front of me.

Pamela’s voice came closer to the phone before Laurie handed it over.

“Your lawyer will deal with the parts that belong to your lawyer,” she said. “Laurie and I are dealing with you. Do you need medication? Clothes? Anything they’ll let us bring?”

The question was so practical that I almost laughed.

“I don’t know what they’ll let you bring.”

“Then we’ll ask instead of guessing.”

“Pam, I might not be getting out tonight.”

“I assumed that when Rick said the words murder charge.”

Only Pamela could make that sound both terrifying and reassuringly ordinary.

“We’ll be there when they release you,” she continued. “If that’s tomorrow, we’ll be there tomorrow. If it takes longer, we’ll still be there.”

Laurie reclaimed the phone. “Did you eat?”

A laugh escaped me then, thin and shaky but real. “You’re asking me that now? I had the hand pie. Most of it.”

“Yes. I’m your aunt. There are standards, and ‘most of it’ sounds suspicious.”

“For once tonight, I’m comfortable being accused.”

Laurie made a wet sound that might have been a laugh or a sob.

The humor vanished from me just as quickly as it had come.

“I’m scared.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

For several seconds neither of us rushed to fill the silence.

That helped more than another reassurance would have.

Then Laurie said, “You listen to your lawyer. You tell us what you need. Pamela and I will be there as soon as they let us see you.”

“I love you.”

“We love you too.”