When we arrived, the world around the parking lot was dark, but the building glowed like the warm windows of a lighthouse. I was drawn to this antidote to the fear and darkness, and I parked directly in front of the building, underneath an arching security light.

I turned off the engine and put my hand on top of Michael’s, the way I’d longed to. He was silent now. “You want to go in?”

Whatever he’d witnessed, whatever had happened, it couldn’t be worse than this fog of ignorance. Every horrible thing I’d seen in a movie or news program scrolled through my mind, but it was all locked inside Michael’s head, and he still wanted to protect me. That’s the way he was. He thought we were in danger—Grace and me—and he’d taken us to safety, but now he’d have to tell us why, and he was afraid. Not just of what had happened but of what it might do to me.

“I’m okay.” I squeezed his hand. “We’re okay.”

And with a shuddering sigh, he nodded and opened his car door.

The dome light came on, and when I reached automatically to unbuckle the seat belt I wasn’t wearing, I saw it. My hand, smeared with something dark; more on the knee of my gray sweatpants. I rubbed my fingers together, my breath coming short with horror. Viscid, wanting to stick to itself, to bind my fingers together, transferred from Michael’s hands to mine.

Blood.

He hadn’t just seen something; he’d done something. I shouldn’t have driven my husband here, delivered him up to the police when he was covered in blood. If he turned himself in, I’d lose him.

But Michael was already opening the door of the station, and as I flung my car door open, a mewling sound from the back seat reminded me. Grace was there.

Shit.

Shaking, I wiped my hands on my pants, scrubbing hard, but they still didn’t feel clean. I opened the car door, some part of my mind chittering, You’re transferring DNA; you’re contaminating evidence; you’ll get blood on the baby; you’re a bad wife, a bad mother.

I wouldn’t lift her out of the car seat and carry her, vulnerable and exposed. I’d take the whole carrier out of the base. She’d be cozy in her little bucket, with an awning I could pull down to keep her hidden and sturdy plastic sides protecting her.

And the blood on my hands wouldn’t get anywhere near her body.