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Patricia: Delete whatever you think you have. Family handles family matters privately.
This time, Mia did not cry.
Something inside her went still.
Not calm.
Not healed.
Still.
The kind of stillness that comes when your body is terrified but your mind finally stops bargaining with the truth.
The dispatcher’s voice lowered.
“Do not delete anything,” she said.
Across the street, Mrs. Keller’s front door opened.
She stepped onto her porch in winter boots and a robe, her gray hair loose around her face.
For a second, she did not understand what she was seeing.
Then her hand flew to her mouth.
“Mia?” she called.
Mia could not answer loudly.
Mrs. Keller came down her steps slowly, careful on the ice, then stopped at the edge of the driveway as if she was afraid to touch anything.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Was that Evan?”
The sirens were faint at first.
Then closer.
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