“Right.” Only in Elmhurst would a police station clear out to go to a vigil. Talk about a supportive community.

Toby walks in a few moments later. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” I gauge his voice—calm and even—as he leads us back to his office. No stark interrogation room this time.

“Is this off the record?” I ask.

“You’re not on the record, Bec. It’s not an interview.” Jake clears his throat. “So Oliver Watson. What do we know?”

“DCFS is on their way down. They’re going to know more about this boy than we do. We’re issuing the Amber Alert immediately for Jackson.”

“You are?” A relieved hand flutters to my chest.

“Yes, immediately.” He hesitates. “I’m sorry we didn’t issue it earlier, Rebecca, but I’m following my chief’s orders.”

I know all about the chief’s orders. He wants to present Elmhurst as a peaceful place—which it always has been. And now there’s been nothing but chaos since my move back. We tidy up a few loose ends, and then the questions start. They’re subtle at first—it must be hard raising a baby all by myself. How do I manage? How do I know when Jackson is sick? And that’s when it hits me: Officer Toby is fishing.

“What are you getting at exactly?” I string his questions together in my head and form my own hypothesis. “Do you think I’ve harmed my baby and am trying to cover it up somehow?” I look between the two of them, turning their faces into angry black holes in my mind. “Why in the world would I go to all of this trouble? I’ve been trying to focus on Jackson, not this boy.”

“I’m just asking, Mrs. Gray—Rebecca. Standard question.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, right. Everything’s protocol. Of course.” Stillness stuffs the room until we’re all ready to burst.

“Knock, knock.”

Officer Toby shuffles to the door and excuses himself.

“DCFS?” I ask Jake.

“Most likely. Stay here.”

I quiet Oliver who has just kicked it into a high enough gear that I can’t overhear what’s going on outside. “It’s okay, little one.” My voice catches. Are they going to take him right this second? I kiss the top of his head and sing, which quiets him. Where will they take him? Why can’t he just stay with me until they locate his parents?

Worst-case scenarios shuffle through my mind, but I bury them. This isn’t about Oliver—as much as I treasure him—it’s about Jackson. What feels like an eternity later, Officer Toby, Jake, and a woman enter the room.

“Rebecca, this is Maya from DCFS.”

I nod in her direction. “Are you going to ask me questions too?”

“Not my jurisdiction,” she says.

I swallow. “Are you here to take Oliver?”

She’s quiet.

“Verbal, please,” Jake says.