Chapter 2 - The Laundry Room
A hospital social worker named Denise Harper arrived.
She asked me to wait outside.
This time, I did not object.
Rachel did.
“She is my daughter.”
Denise answered evenly.
“And Sophie deserves to speak without worrying about anyone’s reaction.”
Rachel glared at me.
“You’re allowing this?”
I looked through the narrow window in the door.
Sophie sat curled beneath a blanket.
“I’m allowing her to talk.”
An hour later, Denise returned with Detective Lena Ortiz.
Rachel immediately demanded an attorney.
That was her right.
It was also the first sensible thing she had done all night.
Lena asked Rachel to leave the hospital pending the safety assessment.
Rachel turned to me.
“You believe an eight-year-old over your wife?”
I answered.
“I believe evidence.”
Her expression hardened.
“You’ll regret that.”
Security escorted her away.
Sophie was discharged into my care after midnight.
In the car, she asked one question.
“Is Mom mad?”
“Yes.”
“Is she mad at me?”
“No answer felt safe.
So I gave her the truth.
“She may be.”
Sophie stared out the window.
Then she said.
“She gets mad when I remember things wrong.”
“What does that mean?”
Sophie swallowed.
“She tells me what happened after.”
I pulled into a parking lot because my hands had started shaking.
“What happened in the laundry room?”
She stared at her shoes.
“I dropped a plate.”
“Mom grabbed me.”
“She put me inside.”
“She said I could come out when I stopped lying.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it dark?”
She nodded.
“I kicked the door because I was scared.”
“Then she opened it and pushed me down.”
My chest hurt.
“Is that when your rib got hurt?”
“I think.”
Then Sophie looked at me.
“But Mom has pictures that prove I’m bad.”
I went still.
“What pictures?”
“She said she has a whole folder for the judge.”
A judge.
May you like
Rachel had been preparing for something long before I came home.
