Your Children Are Not Luggage

“We will,” Brian snapped. “Sunday. Like the note said.”

“The note is evidence now.”

That was the first time he sounded afraid. “What does that mean?”

I looked at the child protection worker. I looked at Mason. I looked at Ellen’s promise sitting in my memory like a hand on my shoulder.

“It means your children are not luggage,” I said.

Then I hung up.