“This was what would haunt Mrs. McCullough most: that Mirabelle hadn’t cried out when Bebe had reached into the crib and lifted her up and taken her away. Despite everything – despite the homemade food and the toys and the late nights and the love, so much love, more love than Mrs. McCullough could have imagined possible – despite it all, she still had felt Bebe’s arms were a safe place, a place she belonged.”
