Cho pressed his lapel mic.

“Copy that,” Cho said. “Bring him in. I’m heading back to the station now.”

He turned to me.

“I’ll need you to come down in the morning to give a formal statement and hand over a copy of this footage,” he said.

“I’ll be there first thing,” I said.

After Cho left, the house felt heavy with a cold, hollow silence.

I sat with Clara on the sofa, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.

“He’s in custody,” I told her. “He can’t hurt you.”

“He was so desperate, Mom,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Eleanor must have threatened him with something terrible to make him do this.”

“She’s losing control,” I said. “And when people like Eleanor lose control, they make mistakes.”

I didn’t sleep that night.

I sat in the armchair in the living room, watching the security monitors until the sky turned a pale, dusty gray.

At eight o’clock, I drove to the precinct.

The air was cold and damp, smelling of oncoming rain.

I parked my car and walked into the lobby, carrying a small envelope with a copy of the security footage.