“You think you can just leave me?” Bordain said.

“Mrs. Bordain,” Anne said firmly. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m not Marissa.”

Bordain wasn’t listening. Her mind had gone to a different place. She took a menacing step toward Haley. Anne drew her back a step on the bench.

“Stop it!” Bordain shouted. “Stop that crying!”

“Bad Daddy!” Haley shouted back. “Bad Daddy! You hurt my mommy!”

Oh my God, Anne thought. She meant it. Haley hadn’t mistaken Milo Bordain for her mother’s killer. Milo Bordain was the killer.

Bordain lunged for Haley with both hands, going for her throat. Haley screamed. Anne swept her off the bench, set her on the ground, and shouted, “Run, Haley! Run for help!”

Terrified, Haley ran a few steps and turned around, sobbing, “Mommy! Mommy, no!!”

Milo Bordain was six feet tall and outweighed Anne by a good fifty pounds. When she grabbed Anne by the hair and slapped her, Anne saw stars. Bordain pulled her arm back to hit her again. Anne dropped to her knees, pulling the bigger woman off balance and loosening her hold.

Bordain fell sideways against the table, sending food and drinks flying. Anne scrambled forward on her hands and knees, grabbed the bench, grabbed the edge of the table as she tried to get her feet under her.

They lunged for the knife at the same time.

One of them struck the end of the handle and the knife spun out of reach.

Anne dashed around the end of the table and lunged for the knife again.

Bordain threw herself halfway across the table and grabbed the knife, blade first, cutting her hand. An animal roar tore up out of her chest, not of pain but of rage.

Haley was screaming and screaming. Anne could see her in her peripheral vision, out of harm’s way. But then the little girl came running.

“No!! No!! Don’t hurt my mommy!!”

Bordain wheeled toward her, the knife clutched in her bloody hand.

On the wrong side of the table, Anne grabbed the first thing that came to hand—a loaf of French bread—and swung it like a bat, hitting Bordain in the side of the head, diverting her attention from Haley.

“Leave her alone!” Anne shouted, not knowing if Milo Bordain could even hear her. The woman’s eyes were like flat pieces of colored glass. Her face was twisted grotesquely as she came at Anne with the knife.

Anne ran around the end of the table and leaned down to scoop Haley off the ground, the only thought in her mind: Run!

Already wounded herself, she was going to pick up thirty pounds of wiggling, screaming child and try to run.

It never occurred to her that she wouldn’t be able to do it.

She never felt the knife slice her side as she grabbed up the girl and ran.