Her ankles hurt.
Her lower back burned.
Her unborn daughter had been kicking beneath her ribs since midnight.
None of that showed in her voice.
“You can explain after I save her life.”
Ethan’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Lauren turned away.
She did not ask why his hand was streaked with Madison’s blood.
She did not ask why Madison had called him instead of 911.
She did not ask why Ethan’s wedding ring was missing.
She did not ask why Madison’s lipstick was smeared across the collar of his white shirt.
She did not ask whether the hotel photograph had been real.
Because Lauren already knew something Ethan had not yet understood.
A confession was emotional.
Evidence was useful.
And Lauren had been collecting evidence for six days.
“Move.”
The trauma team pushed Madison toward the operating room.
Ethan stepped after them.
Lauren stopped without turning.
