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That tiny pause frightened me more than anything he could have said.
“Please,” I whispered. “Is Grant alive?”
“He’ll explain everything,” the officer said.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Someplace safe.”
“Safe from what?”
He didn’t answer.
I grabbed my cardigan, locked the house, and climbed into the back of the police car.
The entire drive felt unreal.
I kept looking out the window, trying to understand how my birthday had turned into something I couldn’t explain.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Mark.
“Mom, please don’t freak out. Just trust us.”
I stared at the screen.
“WHERE ARE YOU?” I typed.
The message showed as delivered.
No response.
A few minutes later, the officer turned into a parking lot.