Patricia stepped onto my porch in a camel coat like she was arriving for brunch, not hunting her bleeding daughter at two in the morning. Dale was behind her, thick-necked and expressionless, and beside them stood a man in a gray suit with another folder tucked under his arm.

My mother knocked once, softly this time, then called through the door in that syrupy voice she used for church and police officers. ‘Open up, Madeline. Savannah is confused. Khloe needs proper supervision.’

Savannah tried to stand and nearly folded in half. ‘Don’t let her say I’m crazy,’ she whispered. ‘That’s what the papers were for.’

Khloe tugged at my sleeve so hard her little fingers shook. ‘The necklace,’ she said. ‘Grandma said only you.’

I opened the silver locket with clumsy hands. Inside, where a photo should have been, a tiny brass key had been taped beneath the lid. There was also a thin strip of paper folded four times. I opened it and recognized Grandma Eileen’s handwriting instantly.

For Maddie. Safe-deposit box 214. If Patricia tries to separate them, do not trust anyone she brings.

A harder bang hit the door.

Then another.

Then my mother stopped pretending. ‘I know she’s in there,’ she snapped. ‘You are interfering with a legal transfer.’

Legal transfer.

She was talking about Khloe like property.

Red and blue lights finally spilled across my blinds, and for one breath I thought it was over. Then another car slid in behind the patrol unit. A woman with a county badge stepped out beside the man in the gray suit.

Savannah went white. ‘That’s the court investigator,’ she whispered. ‘Mom called them before I ran.’

Outside, Patricia lifted both hands to her chest and began crying on cue, already ready with her version first. And when the officer turned toward her, the gray-suited man pointed straight at my door like he already knew exactly who he planned to take from it.