"MOM'S BACK THERE!"

The first officer through the door was a woman, which Richard had not expected.

He had prepared himself for a man he could talk to in a particular way — measured, collegial, one professional to another.

Officer Tran was not interested in any of that.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step away from the table."

"This is my home."

"I understand that.

Step away from the table, please."

Paul met the officers at the door and handed them the key ring without being asked.

He pointed to the service passage.

He pointed to Sarah.

He pointed to Ethan.

Officer Tran's partner, a younger man named Reyes, crouched down to Ethan's level.

"You made the call?"

"Yes."

"You did the right thing.

Are you hurt?"

"No.

She is, though.

Her wrists."

Reyes looked at Sarah's wrists where the restraints had been.

The skin was raw and deeply marked.

"Ma'am, we're going to get you looked at.

Can you walk?"

"I can walk," Sarah said.

"I've been sitting for three days.

I can walk."

She stood.

Ethan kept hold of her hand.

Richard watched all of this from the far end of the room, where Officer Tran had positioned herself between him and the rest of the family.

He had his phone out.

He was already texting.

"I'll need a statement from everyone present," Tran said to the room.

"Nobody leaves until we have contact information and a preliminary account.

Is that understood?"

General murmurs of agreement.

Everyone except Richard.

"I'll be providing any statement through my attorney," he said.

"That's your right.

You'll still need to remain on the premises until we've completed the initial assessment."

"Am I being detained?"

Tran looked at him for a moment.

"Not yet."

It was the two words that did it.

Not the handcuffs, not the lights in the driveway, not the family watching from the other side of the room.

Not yet.

Richard's composure shifted in a way that was almost invisible — a tightening around the eyes, a stillness in the hands that had been moving constantly since the panel broke.

He knew what those two words meant.

Lisa came to sit beside Sarah while Reyes photographed her wrists.

The family had rearranged itself without anyone directing it — everyone had moved, naturally and without discussion, to Sarah's side of the room.

Richard stood alone near the fireplace.

"How long have you known about the account?" Lisa asked Sarah quietly.

"Eight months.

I found a statement in his jacket.

I didn't understand all of it, but I knew the name — Margaret Voss — because he'd said it in his sleep twice.

I started writing things down.

Dates, amounts, anything I could find."

"Where is it?

What you wrote down?"

"In the house.

Hidden.

He doesn't know where."

Lisa squeezed her hand.

"We'll get it."

"He'll say I fabricated it."

"He can say whatever he wants." Lisa glanced across the room at Richard, who was now speaking in low, rapid sentences into his phone.

"He just locked his wife in a wall in front of ten witnesses and a twelve-year-old who called the police from the cellar.

He's not starting from a strong position."

Sarah almost smiled.

It didn't quite make it to her face, but it was close.

Reyes finished with the photographs and straightened up.

"Ma'am, I'd like to get you to the hospital to have those wrists properly assessed.

Is there someone who can accompany you?"

"I'm going," Ethan said immediately.

"And me," said Lisa.

Reyes nodded.

"We'll need your formal statement before you leave, Mrs.

Langford, but we can take it at the hospital.

That's fine."

Sarah stood again.

This time she didn't look at Richard.

He looked at her.

"Sarah." His voice was controlled, almost gentle.

"Think about what you're doing.

Think about Ethan.

Think about what this looks like for him — his mother making accusations, police in the house, the family involved.

You want this to be his memory of his childhood?"

She stopped.

Ethan's hand tightened in hers.

She turned around slowly.

"Ethan's memory of his childhood," she said, "is already a mother who disappeared for three days while his father told him she had abandoned him." She paused.

"I'm not the one who made this his memory, Richard.

You are."

She walked out.

Richard's phone buzzed in his hand.

He looked down at the screen.

The text was from a number saved only as M.V.