And everything happened so fast.

Mimi tried to close the door again, but the man pushed it open, pushed her back. He was big, so much bigger than Mimi. He had a little beard with some gray in it, and more in his hair, like silver wings on the gold, but his face was all red like he’d been running. Adrian’s first shock at seeing the big man shove Mimi froze her in place.

“Where the fuck is she?”

“She’s not here. You can’t barge in here like this. Get out. You get out now, Jon, or I’m calling the police.”

“Lying bitch.” He grabbed Mimi’s arm, shook her. “Where is she? She thinks she can run her mouth, ruin my life?”

“Get your hands off me. You’re drunk.”

When she tried to pull away, he slapped her. The sound reverberated like a gunshot in Adrian’s head, and she leapt forward.

“Don’t you hit her! You leave her alone!”

“Adrian, you go upstairs. Go upstairs right now.”

But temper up, Adrian balled her fists. “He has to go away!”

“For this?” the man snarled at Adrian. “For this she ruins my goddamn life? Doesn’t look a thing like me. She must’ve been whoring around, and she’s trying to pin the little bastard on me. Fuck that. Fuck her.”

“Adrian, upstairs.” Mimi whirled toward her, and Adrian didn’t see mad—like what she felt. She saw scared. “Now!”

“The bitch is up there, isn’t she? Liar. Here’s what I do to liars.” He didn’t slap this time, but used his fist, once, twice, on Mimi’s face.

When she crumpled, that fear dove into Adrian. Help. She had to get help.

But he caught her on the stairs, snapped her head back as he grabbed the tail of curly hair and yanked.

She screamed, screamed for her mother.

“Yeah, you call Mommy.” He slapped her so the sting burned like fire in her face. “We want to talk to Mommy.”

As he dragged her up the stairs, Lina ran out of the bedroom in a robe, her hair still wet from the shower.

“Adrian Rizzo, what the—”

She stopped, stood very still as she locked eyes with the man. “Let her go, Jon. Let her go so you and I can talk.”

“You’ve done enough talking. You ruined my life, you stupid hick.”

“I didn’t talk to that reporter—or to anyone about you. That story didn’t come from me.”

“Liar!” He yanked Adrian’s hair again, so hard it felt like her head was on fire.

Lina took two careful steps forward. “Let her go, and we’ll work it out. I can fix this.”

“Too fucking late. The university suspended me this morning. My wife is mortified. My children—and I don’t believe for one fucking minute this little bitch is mine—are crying. You came back here, back to my city, to do this.”

“No, Jon. I came for work. I didn’t talk to the reporter. It’s been over seven years, Jon, why would I do this now? At all? You’re hurting my daughter. Stop hurting my daughter.”

“He hit Mimi.” Adrian could smell her mother’s shower and shampoo—the subtle sweetness of orange blossoms. And the stink from the man she didn’t know was sweat and bourbon. “He hit her in the face, and she fell down.”

“What have you …” Lina took her eyes off him to look over the railing that ran across the second floor. She saw Mimi, face bloody, crawling behind a sofa.

She tracked her gaze back to Jon. “You have to stop this, Jon, before someone gets hurt. Let me—”

“I’m hurt, you fucking whore!”

His voice sounded hot and red, like his face, like the fire burning in Adrian’s scalp.

“I’m sorry this happened, but—”

“My family’s hurt! Want to see some hurt? Let’s start with your bastard.”

He threw her. Adrian had the sensation of flying, brief and terrifying, before she hit the edge of the top step. The fire that had been in her head now burst in her wrist, her hand, flared up her arm. Then her head banged against the wood, and all she could see was her mother as the man lurched toward her.

He hit her, he hit her, but her mother hit back, and kicked. And there were terrible sounds, so terrible she wanted to cover her ears, but she couldn’t move, could only sprawl on the steps and shake.

Even when her mother shouted at her to run, she couldn’t.

He had his hands around her mother’s throat, shaking her, and her mom hit him in the face, like he had Mimi.

There was blood, there was blood, on her mom, on the man.

They were holding each other, almost like a hug, but hard and mean. Then her mother stomped down on his foot, jerked her knee up. And when the man stumbled back, she shoved.

He hit the railing. Then he was flying.

Adrian saw him fall, arms waving. She saw him crash into the table where her mother put flowers and candles. She heard those terrible sounds. She saw the blood run out from his head, his ears, his nose.

She saw …

Then her mother lifted her, turned her, pressed her face to her breast.

“Don’t look, Adrian. It’s all right now.”

“It hurts.”

“I know.” Lina cradled Adrian’s wrist. “I’m going to fix it. Mimi. Oh, Mimi.”

“The police are coming.” Her eye swollen, half-closed, already blackening, Mimi wobbled up the steps, then sat and put her arms around both of them. “Help’s coming.”

Over Adrian’s head, Mimi mouthed two words. He’s dead.

Adrian would always remember the pain, and the quiet blue eyes of the paramedic who stabilized the greenstick fracture in her wrist. He had a quiet voice, too, when he shined a little light in her eyes, when he asked her how many fingers he held up.

She’d remember the policemen, the first ones who came after the sirens stopped screaming. The ones in the dark blue uniforms.

But most of it, even as it happened, seemed blurry and distant.

They huddled in the second-floor sitting room with its view of the back courtyard and its little koi pond. Mostly the police in the uniforms talked to her mother because they took Mimi to the hospital.

Her mother told them the man’s name, Jonathan Bennett, and how he taught English literature at Georgetown University. Or did, when she knew him.

Her mother said what happened, or started to.

Then a man and a woman came in. The man was really tall and wore a brown tie. His skin was a darker brown, and his teeth really white. The woman had red hair cut short, and freckles all over her face.

They had badges like on TV shows.

“Ms. Rizzo, I’m Detective Riley, and this is my partner, Detective Cannon.” The woman hooked her badge back on her belt. “We know this is difficult, but we need to ask you and your daughter some questions.”

Then she smiled at Adrian. “It’s Adrian, right?”

When Adrian nodded, Riley looked back at Lina. “Is it all right if Adrian shows me her room, if she and I talk there while you talk to Detective Cannon?”

“Will it be quicker that way? They took my friend—my daughter’s nanny—to the hospital. Broken nose, concussion. And Adrian has what the paramedic thinks is a greenstick fracture on her left wrist, and she hit her head.”