When she saw Vincent, anger replaced fear.
“You,” she said.
“You took my daughter’s crib while she was crying. You looked at a 7-year-old child and decided her tears didn’t matter.”
Vincent couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Ma’am, I’m here to return everything and pay for what I did.”
“Pay?” Sarah stepped closer. “You think money fixes what you did to my daughter?”
Emma crept closer, encouraged by the fear she now saw in Vincent’s eyes.
“You hurt my arm,” she said quietly. “When I tried to keep my
