Chapter 4

My phone lit up on the dashboard of my sedan just as I turned onto Sarah’s street.

Bridget.

In the rearview mirror, eleven-year-old Leo sat in the middle of the back seat, his shoulders hunched inside his blue windbreaker.

His hands were wrapped so tightly around his backpack straps that his knuckles were stark white under the streetlights.

He caught the glare of the screen instantly.

He didn't ask who was calling. He didn't have to.

Over the last forty-eight hours, he had been subjected to enough quiet lies from the adults around him, and he spent every waking second…