I looked at Corey. “We’re leaving. Now.”

He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He was paralyzed — a small boy afraid of his mother.

I turned toward the door.

“Don’t let her leave,” Lorraine said.

Walter moved. For a man that size, the speed of it was horrifying. Three steps across the kitchen and his hand clamped down on my bicep hard enough to grind bone.

“Let go of me!” I twisted to break the grip and stumbled backward, my hip slamming into the counter edge.