“I don’t know. Nate is murdered, and Melissa is missing. Ava came home with us. Maybe someone wants to hurt them and thought she was still here. We should call the police. Her grandparents. Maybe—”

Philip shook his head, as if disappointed. “The pandemic has nearly sixteen percent of the city out of work, babe. People are angry. They want someone to blame. They see the lights glowing in one of these houses and think to hell with those rich bastards. You know how it is.”

Imani shook her head. “It has never been like that.”

Philip shrugged. “First time for everything, then.” He started toward the kitchen. “I’ll duct-tape it for the interim. Tomorrow, we can get quotes to replace it and call our homeowner’s insurance.”

Imani felt her adrenaline reduce into annoyance. They’d been attacked. Yet her husband thought the problem could be fixed with duct tape. She followed him toward the kitchen, waving her cell. “We should call the police.”

Philip whirled around, a fighter shaking free of someone on his back. “I said no.” His sudden volume and the redness of his face forced Imani to retreat a step. “Please go check on the kids. They’re still in their rooms wondering what the heck is going on. I’ll be up after I tape this.”

Though Imani wasn’t done with the discussion, guilt over her earlier failure to protect their children made her turn toward the stairs. She climbed to the bedroom floors, calling her kids’ names. “Vivienne? Jay?” She shouted in the direction of their closed bedroom doors. “Everything’s all right. Where are you? It’s okay.”

Vivienne emerged first. “Mom?” Though her brow was knitted, there was a surprising lack of tension in her face. Imani heard the massive bass line of a Travis Scott song. “What’s up?”

“You didn’t hear?”

Vivienne gestured behind her to a speaker. “I was listening to music as I finished my homework.”

Imani opened her mouth to explain and then abruptly closed it. Nate’s death had surely caused her children enough concern for their safety. They didn’t need to know that angry miscreants were running around destroying property. “Nothing,” she said. “The window broke downstairs.”

A creak sounded behind her. Jay’s curly head popped out the door. “That’s what all the shouting was about? I thought you and Dad were just arguing.”

Blood rushed to Imani’s cheeks, heating her face like a blast of hot air from a subway grate. “When do we yell at one another?”

Jay shot his sister a look, as if to ask whether or not he should answer. Imani recalled the prior day’s conversation about Philip’s restaurant. Clearly, they had not been as quiet as she’d believed. “I shouted because I didn’t know what was happening,” Imani said. “Glad to know you’re both okay.”