Fiona reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Detective Hector Ruiz is reviewing the photograph of the bruise. He believes something about it is wrong. If he finds physical proof then we will have a path forward. Hold on a little longer.”
Miles away, in a mansion overlooking the Denver skyline, dinner unfolded in cold silence. Brandon Hughes sat at the head of the table, his expensive suit jacket loosened at the collar. Across from him sat Cassandra Blake, elegant and unmoving, her wine glass catching the chandelier light. Between them sat Daisy, a tiny figure in a pastel dress, her stuffed rabbit tucked tightly under one arm.
“Sweetheart,” Brandon said gently, “please eat something.”
Daisy stared at her plate, her fork shaking slightly. Cassandra’s voice slid smoothly into the space between them. “Daisy, your father has had a long day. Be a good girl and show him you can behave.”
Tears gathered in Daisy’s eyes. She looked at her father with desperate hope. “Daddy, Gabriela did not hurt me.”
The words fell into the room like a stone into water. Brandon froze, his hand midway to his glass. Cassandra’s smile vanished.
“What did you say, honey,” Brandon later whispered.