Then Denise whispered, “You idiot.”
The judge stood.
“This hearing is suspended.”
He turned toward the bailiff.
“Notify courthouse security. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Parker is to leave until law enforcement arrives.”
Howard began shouting about false imprisonment.
Nobody listened.
I turned away.
Vicky was sitting on the bench behind us.
She was eleven years old, but in that moment she looked six.
Tiny.
Terrified.
Alone.
I knelt in front of her.
“Hey.”
She looked at me.
“Did they kill Mom?”
My throat closed.
“I don’t know.”
“But Aunt Denise said—”
“I know.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I want Mom.”
Three words.
That was all.
They broke something inside me.
I pulled her against my chest.
“I know.”
She buried her face in my shoulder.
“I want Dad.”
“I know.”
“I want to go home.”
I closed my eyes.
Home.
The house was gone.
Our parents were gone.
Everything we knew had been ripped apart.
