I only wanted to protect my son, I never thought—”

And I believed her.

That was the strange and difficult truth of it: I believed that Evelyn’s original request had come from a mother’s love and a mother’s fear, and not from malice.

But I had learned something, over eight years and one long night, that I would never unlearn.

Believing someone’s sorrow is real is not the same as being rescued by it.

Evelyn’s grief was genuine.