Every Friday at 6 p.m. my daughter called me without fail, and the one week my phone stayed silent I drove to her house and heard a sound from upstairs that turned our quiet Tennessee life into something I still can’t fully talk about

for this,” I whispered against her skin. “Kevin Marshall will spend the rest of his life in prison thinking about what he did to you. I swear it.”

When I straightened up, Detective Carter was watching me carefully.

“Justice,” I said. “That’s all I want now. Justice for my daughter.”

“You’ll have it,” Carter promised. “We’ll make sure of it.”

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