He looked away.
I returned to the hospital with an officer while the search continued.
Katie was awake when I entered her room.
A child advocate sat beside her, and a nurse was helping her sip water through a straw.
“Is he coming here?” Katie asked.
“No.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
I sat down and took her hand.
“You did the right thing by telling me.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I thought you wouldn’t believe me.”
Those words hurt almost as much as seeing her in the hospital bed.
“Why would you think that?”
“Andrew said you needed him.
He said if he left, we’d lose the house and you’d blame me.”
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against her hand.
“Listen to me.
None of this is your fault.
Not the house.
Not Andrew.
Not anything.”
She nodded, but children do not release fear simply because an adult tells them to.
It took time, repetition, and the steady presence of people who did not demand that she protect anyone else’s feelings.
Over the next forty-eight hours, the case against Andrew grew stronger.
Security footage from a gas station showed his car parked two blocks from the crosswalk twelve minutes before Katie was hit.
Another camera captured a man in a dark jacket following her along the sidewalk.
His face was partially hidden, but his height, clothing, and distinctive white sneakers matched Andrew.
The movie ticket turned out to have been purchased online after the accident.
He had never entered the theater.
A forensic examination found particles from the crosswalk’s yellow curb paint on one of his shoes.
Investigators also recovered deleted searches from his laptop: payout timelines for child life insurance, whether a spouse could sell a jointly owned house with power of attorney, and how long traffic cameras retained footage.
