“She said it would make everything easier.”
I sat beside her.
“Did your father ever tell you not to go in his office?”
“Not really. He said the bottom drawer was private.”
“Did Aunt Morgan know that?”
“I think so.”
I brushed a strand of hair away from Elise’s forehead.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“I know.”
She said it with such seriousness that I almost smiled.
“Good.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“When I come home, can I have the room with the yellow curtains?”
The question was so ordinary that it hurt.
“You can have whichever room you want.”
“Even if you have to work?”
“We’ll figure out the work part.”
“Will you still have to go away?”
I did not offer a promise I could not keep.
“Not without talking to you first. And not without making sure you are safe.”
She seemed satisfied with that.
“Okay.”
Detective Bell waited outside while I said goodbye. The social worker remained with Elise until we returned.
Ryan’s house was twenty minutes from the hospital, in a quiet neighborhood of large brick homes and carefully trimmed hedges. I had not visited in almost a year. The place looked unchanged from the outside, but the familiarity felt false.
Ryan’s mother, Judith, sat in the living room with one hand wrapped around a mug. She was pale and tired, a surgical dressing visible beneath the sleeve of her sweater.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she saw me.
There were many things she could have meant.
I stood near the doorway.
“For what?”
“For trusting my daughters.”
Her voice cracked.
“They told me they were helping Ryan. I knew about the custody petition, but I thought they were collecting information. I didn’t know they were pressuring Elise.”
“Did you see anything?”
Judith looked down at her hands.
“I saw them arguing with Ryan two nights ago. He was upset. Tessa said the hearing would be pointless unless he had evidence that you were neglecting Elise.”
“Why didn’t you tell him to stop?”
“I did.”
“And?”
