Mason Sterling Drove to His Dead Wife’s Mountain House to Say Goodbye

“Mr. Sterling?” she said.

“Yes.”

“I’m Claire Donnelly with Virginia Child Protective Services. We appreciate you contacting the county promptly.”

Her tone was professional, but not cold. Merely careful.

Mason nodded once.

She glanced at the girls in his oversized shirts, then back at him. “We need to bring them in.”

June made a small broken sound. Joy pressed her face into the back of Mason’s thigh.

He crouched and turned to them. “Hey. Look at me.”

They did.

“I’m going with you,” he said.

June’s lower lip trembled. “Promise?”