Chapter 1
Lydia
Seattle, Three Years Ago
I look at my watch. I’m surprised Darren isn’t home yet. He said he’d be home by six.
“What if I do extra chores?” my seven-year-old son, Theo, asks.
I smile to myself. The kid is a fantastic negotiator, just like his father. “Nope,” I reply firmly. “You can’t have dessert until you’ve eaten every spear of that broccoli.”
“I’m eating my broccoleeee, Mommeeeee,” my four-year-old daughter, Isabella, sings, wiggling in her chair. “See, Theo?” She shoves another piece into her mouth. “Yummeeeeee!” She smiles at me like a goof and the green in her mouth pokes out from behind her two front teeth.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Izzy,” Theo snaps at his little sister.
I shoot Theo a warning look. “I’d mind my own business if I were you, mister. It seems to me you’ve got bigger fish to fry than worrying about your sister talking with her mouth full. There’s a big ol’ chocolate cake sitting on the kitchen counter, if you haven’t noticed, and Izzy and I are going to eat it with Daddy when he gets home. I’d sure hate for you to be left out of our celebration because you didn’t eat one itty-bitty pile of broccoli.”
Theo scowls again and it takes all my self-restraint not to laugh at his adorably dour expression. Oh, God, how I love this headstrong boy. He’s just like his daddy.
“What are we celebrating again?” Izzy asks, popping another piece of broccoli into her mouth.
“Daddy gets to be a detective now, not just a police officer,” Theo says. “He’s gonna help people even more now.”
My heart swells with pride. “That’s a great explanation of it, Theo. Daddy would love to hear you say it that way.” Speaking of which... I look at my watch again. Where is he? Darren knows the kids and I are waiting to celebrate his big promotion. I pull out my phone and tap out a quick text: Hey, hot stuff. What’s your ETA?
“All done!” Izzy says, drawing my attention away from my phone to her empty plate.
“Good job,” I say. I high-five my mini-me and shoot a snarky look at Darren’s. “See, buddy? That’s how you make broccoli disappear.”
“Broccoli all gone!” Isabella sings out. She wiggles in her chair again and does a spastic motion with her arms.
I laugh. “Do you need to go potty, honey?”
“No, Momma! I’m dancing!” She wiggles again, making me laugh.
There’s a knock at the front door and I rise from my chair to answer it. “So what’s it gonna be, Theo?” I ask as I head toward the door. “Cake or no cake?”
My son crosses his arms over his skinny little chest and scowls. “I don’t even want cake. I’m not gonna eat anything that’s bad for me ever again so I can grow up and get big muscles like Daddy.”
“Wow,” I say as I open the door. “I’m proud of you for making such a healthy...”
My blood runs cold.
There are two police officers standing on my porch, their expressions unmistakably grim. I don’t know the white officer on the right, but the black one on the left is Dwayne Piedmont. Darren loves him like a brother. My chest tightens.
“Lydia,” Dwayne says softly, his eyes glistening. “May we come in?”
“Daddy!” Izzy shrieks gleefully behind me, and before I can say or do anything to stop her, she’s standing at my leg, doing a little shimmy. “Oh, hi, Officer Dwayne. Are you here for Daddy’s celebration? He’s a detective now so we’re having chocolate cake.”
“Hi, honey,” Dwayne says. “Can you please go into the other room with Officer Navarro here? I need to talk to your mommy for a second.”
I feel my knees begin to wobble, but Dwayne grabs my arm to steady me.
“Go with the officer, Izzy,” I say, my entire body trembling.
“But I want cake!” Izzy sticks out her little belly and pats it. “I ate all my broccoleeee, so now I get to have cake. Right, Momma? Theo didn’t eat his broccoli, so he doesn’t get to—”
“Isabella!” I bark. “Go with Officer Navarro!”
In a flash, Officer Navarro escorts my stricken daughter away from me.
Bug-eyed, I return my attention to Dwayne. I’m vaguely aware Izzy’s whimpering about my sharp tone in the other room, but I can’t focus on that right now. “What happened?” I whisper.
“He’s been shot.”
I gasp.
Dwayne tightens his grip on my arm. “I came straight here as they were loading him into an ambulance. I’m here to take you to the hospital. We need to go.”
“But is he...?” I trail off, incapable of uttering the word on the tip of my tongue.
“I don’t know anything about his condition. All I know is we need to go.” He peeks behind us, presumably double-checking that my children are out of earshot. “Officer Navarro will stay with the kids until someone else can come. Do you have someone who can come?”
My brain is freezing up. Panic is rising up inside me, scraping my insides like shards of glass. I motion toward the house next door. “My neighbor.”
“I’ll call Officer Navarro from the hospital to let him know. Is this your purse?”
I stare blankly. Darren got promoted today. I baked him a chocolate cake. And I’ve got exciting news to tell him—the best possible news.
“Lydia. Is this your purse?”
I nod dumbly and Dwayne puts his arm around me and guides me toward the front door—the door Darren will walk through any minute now because this isn’t happening and we’re going to eat chocolate cake.
As I walk toward the patrol car in the driveway, I shiver.
“Do you need a jacket?” Dwayne asks.
I look down at my arm. There are goose bumps rising up across my light brown skin—but I can’t feel the coolness of the air. I can’t feel anything. Because this isn’t real. “He was alive when you left him?” I blurt as Dwayne settles me into the passenger seat of his patrol car.
Dwayne presses his lips together. His Adam’s apple bobs. “I don’t have any information about his condition,” he says stiffly. “I’m sorry. I’m just here to take you to him.” He shuts the passenger door, cutting off any more questions, and a moment later, we’re racing down the street, sirens blaring.
As the car careens through traffic, I don’t speak. At this point, I know if I open my mouth, I’ll scream like a madwoman or vomit or both. And so, I stare silently ahead, convincing myself this is a nightmare and I’ll wake up any minute now next to my husband’s warm body in our comfy bed. Yes, any minute now, I’ll wake up next to Darren and snuggle close and he’ll do what he always does in the middle of the night: pull me closer to him in his sleep, instinctively keeping me safe and warm and protected at all times. And then I’ll drift back to sleep in my husband’s strong arms, grateful and relieved this was all just a very, very, very bad dream.