“Come on, come on. We’re taking a little trip. Let’s pack your bag.” She hurried to the back bedroom and tried to think. Some clothes. Overnight pull-ups. Her favorite stuffed animals. Her ponies. She threw things randomly into a backpack, then fled into her room and started doing the same. In a drawer was some cash she’d saved from Topless Maids—it would hold them over for a while, anyway. She tossed it in. Zipped up the bag.

“Esme?” she called into the living room. “You ready?”

But when she walked down the hall, Esme’s eyes were wide. Vanessa had burst through the door and was standing over her.

“Well hello,” Vanessa said, her eyes flitting from Ronnie’s face to the two bags in her hands. “Going somewhere?”

“I . . .” Ronnie felt a swoop of danger through her gut. “Um, no.”

“Good thing I came early.”

Then she turned back to Esme. “My God,” she whispered. She pressed her hands to her heart. “Oh, my darling girl.”

Esme pulled back. “Who are you?”

“Didn’t Ronnie tell you?”

Esme turned to Ronnie curiously.

Ronnie cleared her throat. There was so much acid in her mouth. “I couldn’t find a mediator. No one could come.”

The truth was, Ronnie had been too afraid to call a mediator. How could she admit to a stranger that she’d bludgeoned a man and left her sister for dead and kidnapped their child? Who’d want to mediate that situation, especially with Vanessa here, twisting the story, making it sound like Ronnie had been gunning for Esme all along?

Vanessa was sitting next to Esme now, openly weeping. She reached to pet Esme’s My Little Pony, but Esme wrinkled her nose and arched away. “This is mine.”

“No, baby, it’s okay,” Vanessa said softly. “I’m your mama. I’m here.”

“Uh, that’s my mama,” Esme said, with attitude. “Her.”

“Actually, she’s your aunt, baby. I’m your mama. And I’ve come to take you back with me.”

Esme cast a nervous look over to Ronnie. “I thought we were going on a trip.”

Ronnie cringed. She looked at Vanessa. “This is too soon for her. Too much.” How could Vanessa think a four-year-old child could comprehend such a life-altering declaration? How could a mother think this was a good idea?

“You and me,” Vanessa was saying to the little girl. “We’re going to live on a farm! With doggies, and kitties, and some chickens! What do you think?”

“A farm?” Ronnie stared. “What farm?”

“Farms are stinky,” Esme declared.

“Well, this farm smells good. And one of the cats is having kittens! You could have your own kitten and name her whatever you want!”

Ronnie felt so dizzy she had to hold the wall. “What farm?” She had a vague recollection of someone in Jerrod’s family having something to do with farming.

“Are there horses on the farm?” Esme asked.