A little after midnight, two police officers knocked on my door and asked to speak to my 15-year-old daughter, Lily.

the wheel. Would you like to amend that statement?”

My mother blinked rapidly.

“It was dark.”

My father nodded too quickly.

“We assumed.”

“You assumed?” Whitman asked.

My mother swallowed.

“We were trying to help.”

No one asked the obvious question.

Help who?

The answer sat beside them, mascara smudged, face pale, suddenly far less certain.

Whitman turned to continue reading …