I told him I had been outside the Harrington house, that I was overwhelmed and angry, and that I needed to make a formal statement about what Chloe had told me.

He asked where I was and advised me to come to the hospital, where an investigator could meet me.

The drive back took twenty-five minutes.

It felt longer than the entire previous year.

The wipers moved steadily; the roads shone black beneath the streetlights.

By the time I turned into the hospital parking garage, I had decided on the one promise I could actually keep: I would not give the Harringtons another reason to question my fitness to stand beside my daughter.

Dr.