Through the open side door of the garage, I could see the dark shape of the unplugged chest freezer standing cold against the back drywall, waiting for Saturday morning, when Robert and I could haul it away on the flatbed scrap truck.

Mariana sat on the patio bench for an hour without moving a muscle, watching our children play safely in the afternoon sun.

At four fifteen, Detective Henderson called Mariana’s cell to confirm that the permanent protective order was ready for signing at the clerk’s counter.

We walked back into the intake wing of the police station at four thirty.

Across the wide corridor, behind the thick security glass of the custody transfer line, two armed bailiffs were guiding Teresa toward the transport door to the main county jail.

Teresa caught sight of Mariana standing at the counter and slammed both hands against the reinforced window.