Mr. Walker laid his big hand on MJ’s little shoulder. “It’s a pink year, MJ.” His voice was as unsteady as Leni felt. “That means the humpies are clogging the rivers. We could fish the Anchor River today. Chances are good you’ll catch the biggest fish of your life.”

“Can my mommy and daddy come?” MJ asked. “Oh. Wait. My daddy can’t move. I forgot.”

“You know about your dad?” Mr. Walker said.

MJ nodded. “Mommy loves him more than the moon and the stars. Like she loves me. But he has a broke head.”

“The boy needs to leave now,” Chief Ward said.

MJ looked at Leni. “So I’m going fishing with my new grandpa, right? Then we’ll play jail more?”

“Uh-huh,” Leni said, doing her best not to cry. She had taught her son to trust her, always, and to believe her, and so he did. She reached out and pulled him into a hug, imprinting the feel of him. Of all the courage she had expended so far—coming home, telling the truth, calling for Tom Walker—it took the greatest toll on her to simply let her son go. She managed a shaky smile. “’Bye, MJ. Be good for Grandpa. Try not to break anything.”

“’Bye, Mommy.”

Mr. Walker swept MJ into the air, planted him on his shoulders. MJ’s high-pitched giggle rang out.

“Look, Mommy, look! I’m a giant!”

“She doesn’t deserve to be here,” Mr. Walker said to Chief Ward, who shrugged. “You always were a by-the-book prick.”

“Insulting me. Good plan. Tell it to the court, Tom. We’ll arraign her quickly. Three o’clock. Judge wants to be out on the river by four.”

“I’m sorry, Leni,” Mr. Walker said.

She heard the gentleness in his voice and knew that the man was ready to offer comfort. Leni didn’t dare reach out. Any kindness now could break what little control she had. “Take care of him, Tom. He’s my world.”

She stared up at her son on his grandfather’s shoulders, and she thought, Please let this be okay, and then the cell door clanged shut.

The rest of the day passed slowly, in unfamiliar sights and sounds, in a phone jangling, in doors opening and closing, in lunch orders being taken and delivered, in boots stomping across the station floor.

Leni sat on the hard concrete bench, slumped back against the cold wall. Sunlight streamed through the small cell window, heated everything. She pushed the damp hair out of her eyes. She’d spent the last two hours crying and sweating and muttering curses. Everywhere she could be damp, she was. Her mouth tasted like the inside of an old shoe. She went to the small, lidless toilet, pulled down her pants, and sat down, praying no one saw her.