I didn’t believe that for a second, and it pissed me off that Joellen did—and that for the first time, the very worst time when I needed her most, she was scared. She was supposed to be in charge; she didn’t get to be scared. I slapped the list I’d written on the table in front of her, and, Terry Johnson still tucked under my left arm, I got Zola some crackers and juice. “Don’t worry,” I whispered to her. “Everything is going to be all right. Do you trust me?”

She nodded.

“Good. I trust you, too.” I spoke near Joellen’s ear. “Call her. Call that woman right now and tell her to check every one of the places I’ve written here. Tell her I said to try. She’ll find her fucking bracelet.”

She looked up at me—her fear shifted to join my anger. Thank God.

I stood tall as I could, and faced the cop. My stomach turned at this scene, Zola surrounded by all of this stupidity, my anger and protection of her coming off horribly white-savior-y, but fuck. Zola was a child. She needed to see herself in me, in another foster kid taking charge, not being helpless. Because adults were failing her. Again.

“Let’s go,” I said, pretending hard I wasn’t terrified, and started up the stairs.

But there was a knock at the open front door. “Muiriel,” a voice called. “What’s happening?” Kira’s mom. And Kira, in her Blackbird apron. And Sean.

Kira’s mom strode in, assessed the situation, came straight to me, her arm around me holding Terry Johnson. “Tell me what to do,” she said, glaring at Cop Irvin. I shook my head. “What’s happening?” she asked Joellen. “What do they want with Muiriel?”

I exhaled. I was safe now. Sean and Kira stood beside me. My people. My people’s mom, assuming not the worst of me but that I was being wronged. Here to protect me. Zola smiled up at Sean with a tiny bit of hope.

“What the actual F?” Kira whispered.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “But you’re here. So it’s going to be okay.”

“We just need to let this officer take a look in Muiriel’s room,” Joellen said. “It won’t take but a minute.” Her words were calm, disjointed from their anxious, high-pitched delivery.

NCIS island justice. I could not believe this was happening.

“Does he have a warrant?” Kira’s mom asked, moving to anchor safely at Zola’s side.

“Seriously, what the shit is going on?” Kira asked, low.

I spoke quietly. “They think Zola stole something from one of our placements, because a white lady says she did, which Zola abso-fucking-lutely did not; I’m buying time for Joellen to clear it up.”

Kira seethed. Sean was stone-faced.