“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“Did I do it right?”
That question broke something in me that the whole afternoon had not managed to break.
I bent over her bed and pressed my face into her hair.
“You did everything right.”
The police report came two days later.
I did not read it all at once.
I read it in sections, standing at the kitchen island after the windows had been open for forty-eight hours and the cinnamon smell was finally gone.
Incident time.
Responding officers.
Evidence collected.
Probable cause statement.
Suspect interview summary.
Doorbell camera outage noted.
School transportation timestamp confirmed.
911 call audio preserved.
Smartwatch call log preserved.
The report made our nightmare look organized.
That was almost insulting.
Lauren was charged.
So was the man who had written the instructions.
I will not give him more space in this story than he deserves.
He was not clever.
