My mother sat on the bottom step of the staircase, her mascara running in dark streaks down her face.

She looked up at me, her eyes pleading. “Ava, please. Talk to your father. We can fix this.”

“It’s already fixed,” I said, looking at the blue lights flashing through the frosted glass of the front door.

I walked past her and stepped out onto the wet porch.

The cool autumn air hit my face, smelling of damp earth and exhaust fumes.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I walked down the driveway.

I dialed Arthur Pendelton’s office number.

The phone rang twice before a deep, steady voice answered.

“Arthur Pendelton.”

“Mr. Pendelton, this is Ava Parker,” I said, my voice trembling. “I have the documents.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

“Are you in a safe place, Ava?” he asked.

“I’m leaving for the university now,” I said, looking back at the house.

“Don’t go to your dorm,” Arthur said, his voice suddenly sharp.

“Why?” I asked, stopping near my car.