“We’ll change the locks.”
“He knows where I work.”
“You’ll quit.”
“He knows—”
“Emily,” I said, turning her to face me. “He knows a lot of things. But he doesn’t know where you’re going to be tomorrow. And he’s not going to get the chance to find out.”
She searched my face.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
We drove home in silence.
When we pulled into the driveway, Emily stared at the house like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to go inside.
“Come on, baby,” I said.
She followed me in.
Thomas and Diane had cleaned up. The table was cleared. The dishes were done. The forks were put away.
They’d also made up the guest room.
Fresh sheets. Extra pillows. A glass of water on the nightstand.
Emily stood in the doorway and cried again.
“You didn’t have to—”
“Yes we did,” Diane said.
Emily hugged her.
Then she hugged Thomas.
Then she hugged me, and this time she didn’t let go for a long time.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered.
“Then sleep.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then I’ll sit with you.”
She looked up at me, her face raw and young and afraid.
“What if he comes back?”
“He won’t.”
“But what if—”
“Then I’ll be here,” I said. “And so will Thomas. And so will Diane. And so will every officer in this city who knows your name now.”
