“I don't know!”
“Your mother does.”
“No.”
“Ask her.”
“Shut up!”
Sophie was shaking now.
Then Caroline said something I still hear in nightmares.
“Melissa should have signed the first time.”
Maya closed her eyes.
There it was.
Maybe not a confession to murder.
But close.
Then the microphone exploded with noise.
A crash.
Shouting.
A gunshot.
Sophie screamed.
Maya grabbed her radio.
“Move! Move now!”
Police vehicles surged toward the warehouse.
We were ordered to stay inside.
We didn't.
Sophie opened her door.
I followed.
“Sophie!”
We ran toward the building as officers rushed through the entrance.
Another shot echoed.
Then a man stumbled out.
Jake.
He saw Sophie.
For one absurd second, relief crossed his face.
“Sophie!”
She stopped.
He ran toward her.
Maya raised her weapon.
“Don't move!”
Jake stopped.
“Sophie, listen to me.”
My daughter stared at the man she had married less than twenty-four hours earlier.
