She was pleading with Detective Marcus Hale through the bars of a holding room after police arrested her at a motel in Newark. She had poorly dyed her hair, paid cash for the room, and still had my car keys in her bag.
“I didn’t mean for Emma to be there,” she sobbed.
That was the first thing she said.
Not that she never meant for anyone to d!e.
Only Emma.
When Detective Hale told me that, something inside me turned cold and still.
Vanessa’s story changed five times.
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