Gia lowers her eyes, taking the stairs quickly. “A study group.”
“Gia.” Marin’s voice leaves no room for argument. Gia slowly turns, facing her mother. “I . . .” The words catch in her throat. From here she can see her daughter’s pain, feel her fear. But she is helpless to heal it, to offer the words of comfort that will ease the tangled snare she’s trapped in. Instead she says the only thing that comes to mind. “Are you ready for the quiz?”
“Yeah. Of course I’m ready.” Not leaving room for anything else, Gia rushes up the stairs and into her room.
Marin waits in the car for Deborah and the police car. She awoke at the crack of dawn, made her own chai, sipping on the creamy milk until she felt her gut settle. An hour later, she heard Gia’s alarm clock go off and then the sound of her showering. Leaving the kitchen for the security of her office, she stayed there until Gia finished her breakfast and left for the day. Then she drove to the school and, from a spot hidden in the distance, watched all the students enter.
“Are you ready?” Deborah taps on the closed window of Marin’s car.
“Yes.” Marin joins her on the street, both watching as the patrol car parks alongside them. “I have the pictures.”
Late last night, the investigator e-mailed Marin the pictures of Gia and Adam at Adam’s house. The last few Marin could barely glance at. The curtain had been open so the PI was able to get shots of Adam striking Gia, her face streaked with tears. Marin had immediately e-mailed them to Deborah, who agreed it was time to move. Neither woman wanted Gia going home with him even one more night.
Marin hands the prints to one of the officers. He reviews them before nodding once to Deborah. “Let’s go.”
Marin follows them silently into the school, where she points out the office. Karen has already been notified by the district attorney about the officers’ visit. “They’ll be breaking for lunch soon,” Karen says upon their arrival. “I’ll bring them to the office.”
Though it’s only minutes later, it feels like forever when Karen finally returns with Adam and Gia. Both look confused until they see the police.
“No,” Gia says first, not noticing Marin. “He didn’t do anything.” The officers ignore her while reading Miranda rights to Adam. They pull his wrists behind him and cuff him. Adam stares ahead, his jaw tense. “Please let him go,” Gia begs, staring first at Karen and then Deborah for help.
“Enough.” Marin steps forward, catching Gia off guard. “Stop now.” Gia, clearly shocked, falls silent. She watches with tears as Adam is led out of the office and the school.
“We need you to come with us,” Deborah says gently, breaking the silence that had descended. “Your mom can drive.”
“Go where?” Gia looks at Deborah and Marin, her face pained and scared.
“To the hospital. We need to make a record of the additional bruises on your body.”
SONYA
When I was a teenager, Mom and Dad took us to Disney World in Florida. From there, we drove through Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana to Texas, before boarding a flight back to California. Dad loved driving and said the open roads of the South were like no others. Along the way we met many people, in restaurants, at the hotels. Everywhere we traveled, people were wearing crosses around their necks. We could see large churches from miles away. “Jesus Will Save You” was spray-painted on stop signs. At a gas station, a woman was passing out Bibles. Bored, I took one. She told me as long as I accepted Jesus Christ as my savior, I would be saved from the inferno, and, better yet, I could help save my loved ones. “What if I don’t accept him?” I asked, curious.