I waited in the car.
Through the front window, I watched her open it.
She stared at it for a long time. Then she put both hands over her mouth and burst into tears, and then she grabbed my son around the neck and wouldn’t let go.
Behind them, in the doorway to the kitchen, I saw Graham Quinn.
He wasn’t watching his daughter.
He was watching my son.
I cried too. In the car. With the engine running.
I thought that was the end of the story.
It wasn’t.
The next morning, at 8:15, my phone rang.
Fairhaven High School.
I was at work, standing over a patient with a mirror in one hand and a scaler in the other. I almost let it go to voicemail.
It was the principal. Mr. Burke.
He cleared his throat.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you need to come to the school immediately. Harper’s father is here, and he’s demanding to see you right away.”
