The detective watched my face closely.

“Your mother,” he repeated.

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“She was at our place yesterday.”

The doors closed again.

We continued down to the lobby.

“We’ll need to search your apartment,” the detective said.

“And we’ll need to contact her.”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Let me call her first.”

“She gets frightened easily.”

The elevator chimed as we reached the lobby.

The bright lights of the reception area hurt my eyes.

Outside, the Chicago rain was pouring against the glass doors.

“We’ll handle the contact, Jake,” Miller said.

“You should stay with your wife.”

He stepped out of the elevator.

I followed him, but my mind was already blocks away.

I knew the detective would take hours to get a warrant.

By then, my mother could burn everything.

I watched him walk toward the security desk to speak with the guard.

I turned the opposite way, heading toward the side exit.

The cold wind hit my face as I pushed open the heavy metal door.

The rain soaked through my shirt in seconds.