“But if you did, nobody would blame you, right? You get a good lawyer—which you can afford—and you might not go to jail at all. But if they nail you for that kid… or even if people think you were involved, which we both know they will…”

She sucks in a breath. We have given her two terrible options. For a split second, I almost feel sorry for her. Then I remember what she did.

“What about the blood on Enzo’s knife?” she asks. “The police told me about that.”

“Enzo left his knife behind in your house.” Ramirez shrugs. “You used it to kill your husband, then tried to get rid of the evidence by returning it to him.”

Suzette drops her eyes, looking down at the palms of her hands. No matter what she decides, her entire life is about to change forever. “Can I think about it?” she asks in a small voice.

Ramirez looks at his watch. “You can think about it, but I’m telling you now that Detective Willard is on his way. He’ll be here any minute.”

She takes a ragged breath. “Would you mind leaving my room so I can get dressed?”

Ramirez agrees to leave the room—we’ve got to get out of here before Detective Willard catches us and discovers what we’ve been up to. As the door slams shut behind us, I stare daggers into the door to the hotel room. I never liked Suzette Lowell, but I had no idea about the depths of her depravity. I had no idea that she would cover up such horrible crimes just for the sake of her own reputation. When I look over at Ramirez, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

“Only for you and Enzo, Millie,” he says. “I’ll pull every string I’ve got to make this come together and get him off the hook.”

“So we’re even then,” I say.

“No, I think I still owe you a few more.”

I bring my ear close to the door to the hotel room, listening for sounds coming from within. “What if she tries to kill herself in there?”

“She won’t do that. She’s a fighter. You can just tell.”

“What do you think she’ll decide?”

He smiles sadly. “She’s going to confess to killing her husband—I’m sure of it. She doesn’t want that other charge. And she knows they have her.”

I hope he’s right. I need my husband back. And I need this nightmare to be over.

Although I have a feeling it’s not going to be over for a very long time.

SEVENTY-NINE

It’s been almost two weeks since Suzette Lowell confessed to the murder of her husband, Jonathan Lowell.

The four of us are having breakfast in our kitchen, something that didn’t seem like it would ever be possible again only two weeks earlier. But now Enzo is home again. After Suzette confessed, all the charges against him were dropped.

Ada’s part in the murder is only known to us.

“I love chocolate chip pancakes,” Nico says as he happily digs into the plate of pancakes I made.

Enzo flashes me a smile from across the table. He still looks tired from the events of the last few weeks, but he’s here, and that’s what’s important. And our family is healing. Nico especially is going to need a lot of therapy after everything that happened, but that’s okay. We are going to bounce back from this.

We are not going to let what the Lowells did destroy us.

“One more week of school,” Enzo reminds the kids, “then you get summer vacation. We take trip somewhere, yes?”

“Where?” Ada asks.

“Yes, where?” I ask, because this is the first time I’m hearing about this alleged trip.

“We will decide,” he says. “I think we need to get away.”

He’s right. We do need to get away. This summer, we are selling this house. After everything that happened, I can’t imagine living here anymore. We need to find a place that is cheaper so we are not stressing over every single bill. Maybe we need to relocate somewhere entirely different. A fresh start would be nice.

“I want to go to Disneyland,” Nico pipes up.

“Me too!” Ada says.

“Florida is very hot in the summer,” I remind them.

“That’s Disney World, Mom,” Ada corrects me. “Disneyland is in California.”

California? Is she serious? I was thinking more along the lines of a trip to the Jersey Shore. I look over at Enzo, who shrugs. I don’t think we’re going to California this summer—four round-trip tickets across the country isn’t in our budget. But I don’t have the heart to shut down their Disneyland dreams right now.

The school bus is coming soon, so we usher both the kids out the door for them to make the bus with seconds to spare. Just as the bus drives away, that black Dodge Charger pulls up into our cul-de-sac. While I’m always happy to see my friend, I can’t say I don’t get a flash of anxiety when I see a police officer parking in front of my lawn.

But Enzo doesn’t seem the slightest bit concerned. He waves at Ramirez as he gets out of his car. “Buongiorno, Benny!”

Ramirez waves back, then he sees my face and quickly says, “This is just a social visit, Millie. Everything is fine.”

Thank God.

“Would you like to come in?” I ask him.

“Can’t,” he says. “Busy morning. But I just wanted to check in on the two of you while I was in the neighborhood. Everything going okay?”

“We are good,” Enzo says. “Thank you for everything.”

“And the kids?” Ramirez asks. “They are handling everything okay?”

“Yes,” I reply, but with hesitation.

“Millie is worried about Ada,” Enzo speaks up.

He’s right. I hate to admit it, but I have become obsessed with what my daughter did. I recognize that Jonathan Lowell was a horrible person, and he deserved to die, but I just keep seeing him lying on the floor with his throat gaping open.

My daughter did that.

“Ada will be fine,” Ramirez assures me. “Look, she did what she had to do, Millie. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“I guess so.”

“It was my fault,” Enzo says. “I gave her the knife. My dad gave it to me at the same age, and I thought this is no problem. I just want her to be safe. But we live in a different world now.”

I can’t blame Enzo though. The knife is what saved her life. If she hadn’t been carrying that pocketknife, God knows what would have happened to her.