“Mom.” He said it the way he had at nine years old, in the driveway, with a skinned knee.

“You’ll come down to see me.”

The gavel fell.

Victoria went first, holding her wrists out as though she were running late for an appointment.

The deputy snapped the cuffs shut and steered her toward the side door.

Julian turned to watch her leave.

When he faced me again, his mouth was still open around something he’d begun to say.

Arthur Pendelton slid his hand beneath my elbow.