Then Wendy had Fiona lie down in the back seat again — I understood now it was so Fiona genuinely wouldn’t be able to lead anyone back here, a child’s honest “I don’t know where” being safer than a coached lie — and they drove home.
That night, after Fiona was asleep, I did not confront Wendy.
I confronted my wife.
I sat Jessi down and I told her what I’d seen, and I watched my wife of nine years go white, and then gray, and then dissolve into tears I’d only seen from her once before —
