He looked toward me at a red light. “Paula, trusting someone after they promise to protect your child is not the same as causing what they chose to do.”

I understood the sentence intellectually. Emotion had not accepted it yet.

When we arrived, my grandmother opened the front door before the car had fully stopped. She wore navy slacks, orthopedic shoes, and the same cream sweater she’d had on the previous afternoon.

She had never gone home. “Mia is inside.”

I crossed through the living room. My daughter sat on the sofa beneath Grandma’s cardigan, clutching the moon-shaped night-light with both hands. When she spotted me, she ran.

“Mommy.” I lifted her into my arms. Her heart beat rapidly beneath her pajamas.