Max sits up straight. “Do you want me to talk to him?” I know he means it. When he was nine he clobbered a boyfriend of mine who grabbed my arm during an argument and when he was thirteen he told off our landlord for turning off our electricity when our rent check was a few days late.

“No, buddy, I don’t want you to talk to him. I think it’s best we don’t talk to the Landry family at all.”

I told Officer Grady about Jordyn pushing Cora down and he promised me that he would look into it. All I can do is trust him.

I glance at the clock. Seven thirty. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to see Violet sometime this morning. Dr. Gideon told me that seeing her would depend on how her night goes. Max also told me I need to find Violet a lawyer. I tried a few local firms yesterday afternoon but they made it pretty clear that I couldn’t afford their services. I’ve missed work for the last two days and I can’t imagine going back until I get Violet out of here but we need the money. I don’t own a house, I work at a gas station and drive a crappy car. How am I going to be able to pay for a decent attorney for Violet?

“You want me to run home and check on Boomer and the house?” Max asks.

I don’t want him to go back to the house without me there with him and tell him so. The vandalism has rattled me. “I’d be fine, you know. I wouldn’t let anyone mess with me.” I give him a look that makes it clear it’s not up for discussion.

Max rolls his eyes at my overprotectiveness and stands and stretches his arms over his head. “I’m going to go walk around,” he says. “I’ll be back in a while.”

My phone buzzes and I check the display. It’s the guy, Sam, from the other night. He’s texted and called about a dozen times. I hit Ignore.

I nibble on a bagel and take a drink of orange juice and stare mindlessly up at the television. A man and a woman come into the family room. The woman looks dazed and the man fights back tears. They sit down on the sofa, only a few inches between them but it seems like they are a million miles apart. I wonder what brought them here. What mental illness has overtaken their loved one. But of course I don’t ask.

I turn my attention back to the television and the local morning newscast. A reporter is standing in front of the Welcome to Pitch—We’re Glad You’re Here sign.