“Can you stand?”
“I’m standing.”
My knees were locked. I took a breath and stepped away from the broken lamp. Uma brought Owen closer, and he reached for me with one hand. His palm was warm against my thumb.
“I’m going to call the police,” she said.
“Call them.”
“And an ambulance. For your face, and to have them check Owen.”
“He didn’t hit the lamp.”
“I know. I want someone to check anyway.”
She called from the hall. I stayed by the rocking chair while she gave the address and described what had happened. She didn’t soften the words. She said Laura had held a heavy brass lamp over Owen. She said it had fallen and shattered. She said I had been struck after Laura blamed me.
When she finished the call, she set the phone on the dresser, away from the debris.
“Can I see the recording?” I asked.
Uma nodded. She brought the phone over and held it between us. The video was still paused. We watched it from the beginning, not because either of us needed convincing, but because the officers would ask for the exact order.
Laura entered…
