The officer got in front and started driving.
I glanced back into my house. The table was set. The food was waiting. The candles were dying.
« My children were supposed to be here, » I heard myself say.
He hesitated. « I’m sorry. »
I should’ve called Mark, anyway. Instead, I grabbed my cardigan, locked the door out of habit, and got into the cruiser. The back seat smelled like disinfectant and old fear. The door shut with a heavy click that made my stomach drop.
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