End-of-the-year displays lined the walls. Bright yellow construction-paper suns with children’s names on them floated along walls outside Sara’s classroom.

He entered the classroom behind Sara and Ms. Groller. Sunlight streamed in from the window, making yellow bands across the room. Sara walked right up to her desk, opened her backpack and took out her homemade card.

“This is for you, Ms. Groller. I made it.” No inhibitions. No concern that her love would not be well received. The innocence of youth. Pride swelled in his little girl as she watched her teacher ooh and aah over the craftsmanship.

After Ms. Groller admired the card, Sara went to hang her backpack where it belonged.

“I could never get Sara to hang up her backpack at home, but at school, she was Miss This-Is-Where-It-Goes.” His mouth went dry. “There she was, hanging it up like she owned the place.” He’d had another moment of parental pride.

“Sorry she’s so early, but—” Daniel threw up his hands in surrender “—she had to get that to you.” He looked around. “Is there anything I can help you with before I head out?”

“No, not at all. Sara is a wonderful helper.” The teacher smiled broadly at her little charge. “We’ll manage, won’t we?”

Sara nodded proudly.

“Okay, then. Off to work I go.” He knelt down to kiss Sara goodbye. She smelled like baby powder and lotion and that mysterious essence that made children smell so precious.

Try as he would, Daniel could never quite exactly remember Sara’s scent. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, as if he could extract that scent from the air around him. It didn’t seem fair that he could easily remember the offensive odor of the lavender, even feel the chill of the school building, but the little baby smell of his daughter was lost to him.

“Bye, Daddy.” She waved him off. She felt safe.

“Bye, sweetheart.” Daniel stood and nodded at the teacher as he left.

“I left. I left my sweet little girl at school and I went to work.”

“Daniel.” Annika’s eyes were wide; her breath was coming fast. “Daniel, where did Sara go to school?”

He met her gaze with nausea in his belly, unable to say the name of the school.

It was enough for Annika. She gasped. “Chase Creek. Sara went to my school, didn’t she?” Tears filled her eyes. “There was a shooting...”

“I left.” He spat out the word and pounded the granite, relishing the zing of pain that flew up his arm. “I was at work and he came...and he...” He hung his head as he leaned against the granite counter with one hand. Sweat beaded on him, his skin went cold. He couldn’t say the words.