“Amira’s riding with me to Sophia Nelson’s. She wants to plan a vigil for Lullaby Doe,” I say, and for the second it takes my mother to shield her thoughts, I can see that she feels the same way I do about the idea of a vigil. “Unless there was a threat at the middle school? Do I need to pick up Landry?”

“Nothing reported against the middle school so far.” My mother props her hands on her hips beneath her blazer. “You can go to Sophia’s, but send me the address, so I know where to find you. Just in case.”

She’s never told me to do that before. She must be a lot more worried about this than she’s letting on.

“So, what’s going on? Is this threat legit?”

“We have to assume it is, until the bomb squad has cleared the building for occupancy.”

“What bomb squad?” Jake asks.

“Jackson PD is sending one. Now, I need you two to clear out of here. Penn’s already left to check on Daniela. She’s still out with the flu.”

Jake gives me a quick kiss. “’Bye, Mrs. Bergen,” he says, walking backward away from us.

“Detective Bergen,” I mumble, unable to feel as irritated as I sound, when I can still feel the ghost of his lips against mine.

“Hey, Detective Bergen,” Amira says as she comes to a stop in front of my car, with no idea she’s just read my mind. “Is it okay if we—”

“Yes, yes, it’s fine. Just clear the parking lot, please.”

“See you tonight,” I say to my mom as I slide behind the wheel. “I’ll pick up Landry, unless I hear otherwise.”

“Thanks.” My mother closes my door, and as I start the car, she waves me toward the exit, where Doug is still directing traffic.

Sophia Nelson lives in Briarwood. Naturally. Her mother is Clifford’s only divorce attorney, and her father is an orthodontist with an office in Daley.

Small-town police detectives don’t make a ton of money. Neither do small-town firefighters. But we were doing pretty well when both my parents had full-time jobs and my dad was a part-time reservist. “Pretty well” in Clifford, Tennessee, means that my parents had a mortgage instead of paying rent. It means that they each drove a vehicle that was less than a decade old.

When my dad deployed with his reserve unit, he collected full-time military pay, and when he got back, he would always do something big for us with that extra money.

Once, that something big was a trip to Disneyland. I wish Landry had been old enough to remember it.

When my dad lost his job at the fire station, our lives changed. Our income was cut nearly in half. And rehab wasn’t cheap.