A little girl at Walmart grabbed my tattooed arm and whispered, “Daddy’s tryinng to hurt Mommy.”

That hits different.

“How long ago?” I asked.

“This morning,” she said. “He said we had to go. He said if I told anyone…” Her voice broke. “He said I’d be next.”

I stood up slowly.

The man had seen us now. His eyes locked onto mine, flicking down to where Addison clung to me. He started walking toward us, forcing calm into his face like a bad actor.