Marcus was arrested at 2:30 in the afternoon.

Daniel heard it from Carol, who called while he was sitting with Noah in the DA's office waiting room, helping him work through the second muffin.

"They executed the warrant at his home," Carol said.

"He was cooperative until they mentioned the voicemail.

Then he asked for his attorney."

"Fitch?"

"Fitch arrived within the hour.

He's already asking for a bail hearing." A pause.

"Daniel, they also picked up Detective Greer.

Separately.

He's been placed on administrative leave pending investigation."

Daniel looked at Noah, who was carefully peeling the paper wrapper off the muffin and didn't look up.

"What about the deputy director?

The one Ruth identified?"

"He's been asked to come in voluntarily.

Whether he does is another question." Carol's voice was measured.

"This is going to take time.

I want you to understand that.

A crjminal case of this complexity — the property fraud, the @rson, the potential conspiracy charge — it doesn't resolve in a week."

"I know."

"But it's moving.

The right people have the right evidence.

That's what matters today."

Daniel ended the call.

Sophie came back from the water fountain and sat beside him.

He told her quietly, in short sentences.

She listened without interrupting.

When he finished, she was quiet for a moment.

"Greer too," she said.

"Greer too."

She looked at the far wall of the waiting room.

Plain.

Institutional.

The kind of wall you stare at when you're trying to absorb something too large to hold all at once.

"I reported the f*re myself," she said.

"From the upstairs window.

I told them my name.

I told them I was l*cked inside." She paused.

"Greer interviewed me in the hospital.

He was the one who told me the investigation had found no evidence of tampering.

He was the one who told me the door lock had failed due to heat damage." Her voice was even.

"I knew he was lying.

I had no way to prove it."

"You had the voicemail."

"I had the voicemail and no identity, no money, no lawyer, and a crjminal record that Marcus was ready to use against me." She turned to look at Daniel.

"I needed time.

I needed to build something solid enough that it couldn't be dismissed." She glanced at Noah.

"And I needed to know you weren't part of it."

"How long did it take you to decide I wasn't?"

She considered this honestly.

"About six months.

Then another two years to find Ruth.

Then another year to find you."

"You could have found me sooner."

"I know." She didn't apologize for it.

"I needed to be ready.

I needed it to be enough." She looked at the briefcase Carol had left on the chair beside them.

"It had to be enough to put him away.

Not just enough to make an accusation."

Daniel nodded slowly.

"It was enough," he said.

"Yes."

Noah finished the muffin.

He folded the wrapper into a small square with great concentration and placed it in the bin beside his chair.

Then he looked up at both of them.

"Are we going home now?" he asked.

Daniel and Sophie looked at each other.

Home was a word that needed some work.

The house was gone.

Three years of separate lives sat between them like a room neither of them had agreed to enter yet.

There was still a trial coming.

There was still a long road of legal process and testimony and the slow machinery of consequence grinding forward.

But Noah was looking at them with six-year-old patience, and the question was simple.

"We're going to find a home," Sophie said.

"A good one."

Noah seemed to find this acceptable.

He reached over and took his mother's hand.

She held it, and didn't let go.