I shrug. “That’s what Sophia Nelson’s doing. Only without the political angle.”

“No it isn’t!” Landry insists. “She’s just trying to help. Because she cares.”

I exhale slowly. “I agree. But Lan, I think she’s also gotten a little caught up in the attention this is bringing her.”

Landry frowns, but I can’t think of any gentler way to phrase the truth. “I want to stay,” she says.

“No. Go—”

“We’ll stay on the edge of things,” I promise my mother as the squeal of microphone feedback makes the entire crowd flinch and grumble. Sophia’s about to start speaking. “And I promise we’ll bug out if this gets weird. We’re parked behind the yogurt shop.”

My mother hesitates, glancing from Landry to Amira, then to me. “Fine. But I want your word, Beckett. You’ll all three leave if this gets bad.” I can’t help noticing that she’s including Amira in her warning.

“I promise.”

Hands on her hips, which keeps her blazer open to expose her badge, she gives me an official-looking cop-nod. Then she heads into the crowd to Assess The Situation—another Detective Julie Bergen specialty.

“I’m going to go find a candle,” Landry says, and when she starts to push into the crowd, I grab her arm.

“Here. You can have mine.”

“You don’t want it?”

“Not really.”

All the news stations—there are three of them—have set up at the perimeter of the gathering. None of the reporters have noticed me yet. Maybe they won’t, with this many people.

I scan what I can see of the crowd, hoping to spot the protesters before they begin chanting, or waving signs, or whatever protesters do. So I can steer us away from them. But if the protesters are here, they’re blending seamlessly with everyone else so far. I see no sign of matching hats or shirts. No sign of … well, signs.

But I do see my brother.

“There’s Penn. Come on.”

I tug Landry with me, but she resists until Daniela steps out of the crowd with a lit candle, which she holds wick to wick with my brother’s to light it.

“Hey,” I say as I stop next to them.

Penn scowls at me, but he can’t ignore me in front of our sister or his girlfriend unless he’s willing to explain why he’s mad at me. And he’s definitely not willing to tell Daniela that the police gave him a paternity test.

“Hey!” Daniela looks amazing, as usual, and she’s obviously finally recovered from the flu. But instead of the knee-length gray wool coat and black leggings she’s actually wearing, all I can see is the tiny red bikini underwear and Santa hat from the selfie Penn showed me. Which, ironically, makes me think of Amira.

But when I turn, I realize Amira’s still standing at the edge of the crowd, holding an unlit candle, pretending she doesn’t see my brother.