It was not the guilty glance of a child hiding a broken toy.
It was fear.
“Fiona,” I said carefully. “Has Grandma done something that frightened you?”
She shook her head much too fast.
Fiona leaned toward me and gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.
“Daddy, don’t go to Chicago.”
I knelt beside her. “Tell me why.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Grandma takes me somewhere when you’re gone.”
“Where?”
