“Mom, please go get in your car and leave our house right now,” Peter told her in a low, firm voice that surprised even me.

Gretchen gasped in total disbelief and glared at her son for one long, furious second before slamming the heavy front door so hard behind her that the glass transom rattled.

The silence that filled the foyer was complete, leaving Peter and me standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island like strangers on a battlefield.

Peter sank back into his chair, rubbing his face with shaking hands before looking up at me with worn-out eyes.

“Is there anything more you need from me, Claire?” he asked quietly.