Shiloh let out a whimper, and Mom pulled up her shirt and lifted her to her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I tried not to blush or act embarrassed, but it was hard. I’d never seen a woman’s breast out in the open like that, so exposed. The only time I’d seen other women naked had been in locker rooms, and even then people had tried to cover themselves. Not that I minded breastfeeding. It was best for the baby. Everyone knew that. It was just weird.

She reached over and grabbed my hand while she nursed, which only made it odder—the three of us connected in this intimate moment in the back seat of the car. Was this too weird? I tried to catch Dad’s eye in the rearview mirror, but he was too focused on driving. At least he’d have something to do during the fourteen hours stretching in front of us. I wished he’d installed TVs on the back of the seats like Meaghan’s dad had. At least then we’d have something to look at. My phone was useless, because I got carsick if I read it in the car. I hated awkward silences, and so far that was pretty much all it had been when the five of us were together.

Dad had promised things would get easier after we got home. He was convinced a familiar environment would help Mom feel safe, but that was the thing—our house wasn’t familiar any more. Three years ago? Yes, she could’ve walked into our house, and it would’ve been almost like she’d never been gone, since we kept our home as a shrine to her. But Meredith had ceremoniously changed things. The house wasn’t hers anymore.

What if being at home was more traumatic for her? I’d tried to tell the investigators about my fear, but none of them were interested in what I had to say. I would be glad when we were home and Dean was involved. He had been out of the country on another case but was flying home to meet us tomorrow.

Dean was the lead FBI investigator on Mom’s case. He’d stayed in our house during the weeks following Mom’s disappearance. He’d worked with us for so long he’d become like family. I even jokingly called him “Uncle” sometimes. At least he knew how to smile. Marcos had been so stuffy and uptight he made me nervous, and I hadn’t done anything wrong. No wonder Mom was so tight lipped.

My phone buzzed, startling Mom. She whimpered beside me. I rubbed her back with my other hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks. I wanted to help her but didn’t know how. Her time in the hospital hadn’t seemed to make her much better. All her blood work was slowly going back to normal, and her doctors expected it to continue improving, but she still seemed scared all the time, and the harder they pushed her to talk, the more she shut down. It was like she didn’t know how to live away from wherever she’d been. Dean was bringing someone who specialized in getting people in Mom’s situation to talk. I hoped they could help her, because I hated seeing her this way and wasn’t nearly as confident as Dad that being home would make things any better.