Imani supposed she’d dozed off. Guilt at having abandoned Ava overcame the sadness sapping her energy, forcing her from the recliner where she’d fallen asleep. Counseling individuals dealing with trauma was her literal job, yet Imani had left a grieving teen in the care of a fifteen-year-old. “Mother of the year,” she admonished herself.

The hallway outside her room was windowless, penned in by bedrooms and the stairs leading both to the first floor and the attic. Her eyes adjusted to the little light emanating from her open door, confirming that both her kids’ doors were closed. She cracked the first one, revealing Jay stretched out on his extra-long twin, covered only by a sheet despite the freezing temperatures outside. Imani was tempted to pull up the duvet bunched at the bed’s edge, but she restrained herself. Pubescent boys were living, breathing furnaces. He’d only kick it off again.

She headed to Vivienne’s room next. Before entering, she listened through the wall, aware that her daughter might be talking to Ava and resent any interruption. When her kids had been younger, she’d retained the moral authority to do nearly anything simply because she was Mom. Now she had to respect Vivienne’s and Jay’s privacy. Nine months of carrying these beautiful creatures in her belly only for them to constantly demand space a decade later.

Hearing nothing, Imani placed her palm on the door for a full second as if testing for fire. Feeling nothing, she turned the knob like a dial. When the lock clicked, she pulled back the door.

Blond hair shone white on Vivienne’s violet pillowcase. Her daughter had apparently given Ava her bed, choosing to sleep on the trundle mattress below in the guard dog position. Imani could make out her kid’s ringlets falling from the edge of the mattress onto the shadowed floor.

Imani shut the door. Perhaps it had been best that Vivienne had taken over for her. Fear for Melissa had erased years of Imani’s therapeutic training. Instead of actively listening, she’d been spouting unsupported assurances that Melissa would be found safe, exhausting her credibility on lies to make herself feel better. It was little wonder that Vivienne had taken Ava to her room post-dinner.

The lights were off on the first floor. Imani’s skin prickled as she stood on the landing, too afraid to descend. Someone operated in the darkness. Someone bigger than her. She could sense the person’s size by the sounds creeping up the stairs, the heaviness of the footsteps, and the bang of kitchen cabinets.

“Philip?” Imani whispered his name so as not to wake the children. Though she didn’t know the time, it was certainly late. The street noises that were the sonic backdrop to her waking life had completely shut off. There was only the tinkling of liquid hitting glass.