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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.

I am just troubled by what she did with it. We’ve still never spoken about how she slit Jonathan’s throat.

“Anyway,” Enzo says, “if you are too busy to come in for coffee now, come by for dinner tonight, yes?”

“Actually…” Ramirez tugs on his tie. “I got a date tonight.”

For a moment, I am pulled from my worries about Ada, and a smile spreads across my lips. “A date? Really?

Ramirez returns a smile that is an endearing combination of excited and nervous. “Believe it or not, Cecelia set me up with her mother. This is only our second date, but we’ve been talking a lot on the phone, and… I know it’s early, but I like that woman a lot. She’s really something.”

I almost burst out laughing at what is most certainly the understatement of the century. “She really is,” I agree.

“Maybe you retire now,” Enzo teases him.

“Never,” Ramirez says.

But if anybody could convince that man to finally retire, it would be Nina Winchester.

“Anyway,” he says, “I gotta head out. But anything you need, give me a yell.”

Are sens

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