Police cars lined the cul-de-sac in the usually quiet Bethesda, Maryland, neighborhood by the time Jessa arrived. Faith had insisted on tagging along but waited in the car. Jessa barely made it five steps up the long driveway toward the Bartholomews’ marital home before Darren stepped in front of her.

He pushed up his glasses. “I told you this would happen.”

He shouldn’t be here. He’d moved out, but only temporarily and under great protest. The current living arrangement was one of the many disputed items between the couple. His being here at all made the anxiety churning in Jessa’s stomach spin even faster. “What’s going on?”

“She tried to run. But you knew that.” His boyish features curled into a snarl even as his voice remained calm. “You did this.”

She was not in the mood to appease him like everyone else clearly did. “Where’s Curtis?”

“You mean my son?”

“Ms. Hall?” The woman who stepped up next to Darren flashed a badge. She was fortyish and tall, almost as tall as Darren, and he was about six feet, with pronounced cheekbones and a don’t waste my time attitude that hummed around her. “I’m Detective Melissa Schone.”

Police cars. Flashing lights. Neighbors on the sidewalk. Curtis wrapped in a blanket and sitting wide-eyed and visibly shaking in the back of an ambulance. The massive seven-bedroom, three-story French country–style family home was lit up, with the front door standing wide open.

This was quite a show. A big, scary show.

Darren turned on the detective. “Have you arrested my wife yet?”

The detective glared at him. “For backing out of her driveaway? No.”

“That’s not what happened, and you know it.” Darren looked past Jessa then started to walk away. “My attorney just got here. Now we’ll settle this.”

Jessa waited until he left to get the details. “What did happen?”

“His wife and son were in the car and he purposely ran into them from behind, blocking them in.” The detective pointed to the broken glass and banged-up SUV. “The crash isn’t in question because he admits he did it but claims he had no choice.”

The damage to the expensive vehicles suggested the hit wasn’t a little tap either. He’d aimed and crashed. Jessa couldn’t think of a single logical reason why he’d do that and further endanger his case. “Were his wife and son hurt?”

“Shaken up, but fine.”

“Why is he still walking around?” Jessa meant free, because it sounded like he should be in jail for this dangerous, unhinged stunt.

“He says she was trying to kidnap the kid and leave the jurisdiction.”

Something about the dismissive way the detective said kid, like the same way she might say pool table or sneakers, annoyed Jessa. “Ellie Bartholomew has temporary custody of Curtis, not Darren.”