Police lights flashed through the blinds before Daniel reached the sink. He stopped with my blue plate in both hands.
For half a second, nobody moved.
Then someone pounded on the back door.
“Police!”
Daniel looked toward the door, then down at the plate.
That tiny glance told me exactly what he was thinking.
I opened my eyes.
“Put the plate down.”
Daniel nearly dropped it.
Noah pushed himself upright beside the chair, and whatever expression Daniel had been wearing disappeared. His face went blank in a way I had never seen during our marriage.
“What the hell?” he whispered.
The pounding came again.
“Police! Open the door!”
Daniel set my plate on the counter, slowly this time.
