Thomas’s chest constricts with fear. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used in a court of law,” Wilson continues.

“Hey,” Thomas says, trying to step in between Jordyn and the officer but Wilson stops him with an icy look.

“Grandpa?” Jordyn cries out as Officer Wilson guides her by the elbow toward the police car. “Grandpa, I don’t want to go.”

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”

“No!” Jordyn whimpers. “Grandpa, don’t let her take me. Please.”

“Mr. Petit,” Officer Wilson warns.

“Jordyn, you go with Officer Wilson and I’ll meet you there.” Thomas tries to keep his voice steady. “But do not answer any questions, do you hear me? I’m going to call a lawyer and they will take care of everything.” He turns to Officer Wilson. “Where are you taking her?”

“To the police station here. Just down the road.”

“I don’t want to go,” Jordyn says, her voice filled with panic. She clutches onto her grandfather. “Please, Grandpa, don’t make me go.” She’s crying now, drawing curious looks from those driving by.

“I’ll be right there, Jordy, I promise,” Thomas says, trying to keep the sureness from leeching from his own voice. “I’ll get you out of there right away. I promise.”

Thomas leans in to kiss Jordyn’s forehead. “Don’t say a word. Remember, you weren’t there,” Thomas whispers into her ear. “You weren’t there.”

But the picture tells another story. Jordyn was clearly at the train yard with her friends and was holding the knife that was used on Cora. What had happened between the time this picture was taken and the attack?

“Grandpa, please,” Jordyn cries as Thomas tries to untangle her from his arms.

“Head up, Jordyn,” Thomas says firmly. “We’ll get this all straightened out.”

“Deputy Porter and Deputy Blake from the Johnson County Sheriff’s Office will conduct the search, Mr. Petit.”

“What are you looking for?” Thomas thinks of the book bag stuffed up inside of the fireplace and his heart skips a beat.

“The clothes she was wearing the other night, her shoes, her book bag,” Officer Wilson says. “And the home computer and Jordyn’s cell phone if she has one. It would be very helpful if you could tell us where we can find those items.”

“No,” Thomas says. “We’re done helping. Jordyn answered all your questions—we’ve been cooperative.” He looks on as two officers approach the house.

“Is the door locked?” one of them asks.