Chương 7
Savannah noticed. “Don’t write that.”
“I’m required to document safety-relevant information.”
“I didn’t agree to an interview.”
“This isn’t a police interview.”
“Then stop writing.”
Chloe watched panic move through her sister’s face. “Why does it matter?”
“Because he’ll know I said it.”
“He already knows you talked.”
“Not everything.”
“What else is there?”
Savannah stood again.
This time Chloe understood that her sister had not come to deliver a message. Not only that.
She had come because she was carrying something.
“What else?” Chloe repeated.
Savannah’s eyes filled, but she did not cry. “I took a picture.”
Luis stopped writing.
Chloe’s pulse began to pound in her injured ribs.
“Of what?”
“You. June first.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not true.”
“I thought maybe—” Savannah pressed both hands against her forehead. “I thought if it happened again, I’d have something.”
“For who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You always know what you’re doing.”
“No, Chloe, I don’t.”
“Where is it?”
“In my old phone.”
“Did you give it to the detective?”
Savannah lowered her hands. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because there are other things on the phone.”
“What things?”
“Messages. Dad helping with my transfer applications. Money he moved for tuition. He used one of his company accounts for a payment and said he would fix it later.”
Luis spoke carefully. “Savannah, I’m not asking you to disclose unrelated financial information, but if you possess evidence relevant to Chloe’s safety, you should discuss it with your attorney.”
“My attorney?” Savannah laughed once, sharply. “I don’t have an attorney.”
“You may want one before answering further questions.”
Chloe stared at her sister. “You kept a picture of me hurt because you were worried it might affect your tuition?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“I know.”
“You got to leave.”
“I came back every night.”
“Why?”
Savannah opened her mouth, but nothing came.
Chloe understood before her sister spoke.
Money. College. The car. Their mother. Habit. Fear. The private belief that if Savannah remained useful, she would remain safe.
The same calculations Chloe had made, arranged differently.
“You thought he’d never do it to you,” Chloe said.
Savannah’s eyes dropped.
“He didn’t.”
The answer was almost inaudible.
Chloe felt something ugly move through her, a brief satisfaction that Savannah had finally admitted the division between them.
Then disgust followed.
“You need to give them the phone.”
“If I do, Dad may be charged with other things.”
“He’s already charged.”
“More things.”
“That’s his fault.”
“It could ruin Mom.”
“How?”
“If the money came through their joint account, if she signed anything—”
“You’re protecting him again.”
“I’m trying to figure out what happens to everyone.”
“No. You’re figuring out what happens to you.”
Savannah pushed her chair back.
Chloe’s ribs ached with every breath. “Give them the phone.”
“I need time.”
“You had time.”
“Chloe.”
“You had years.”
Savannah walked out.
Luis remained silent until the door closed.
Then he asked whether Chloe wanted Rebecca.
“No.”
“Do you want to end the meeting?”
“It ended.”
He nodded.
Chloe stared at the carved word on the table.
MINE.
She wondered who had written it. A child claiming a game piece. A parent claiming a child. Someone bored during another ruined afternoon.
At the temporary hearing the next day, Chloe did not enter the courtroom.
She waited in a small conference room with Rebecca Shaw and a paper cup of water. Rebecca was in her early fifties, with silver-framed glasses and a habit of tapping one finger against her legal pad while listening.
“The judge continued your placement with Ruth,” Rebecca said when she returned. “Contact with your father remains prohibited. Contact with your mother will be supervised. Your sister can contact you under the current plan unless either of you objects.”
“What did my dad say?”
“His attorney denied the allegations and challenged the interpretation of the medical findings.”
“Was he there?”
“Yes.”
“Did he look scared?”
Rebecca sat across from her. “He looked angry.”
Chloe rubbed the edge of the paper cup.
“Savannah?”
“She attended part of the hearing with your mother.”
“Did she give them the phone?”
“I don’t know.”
“She won’t.”
“Detective Morgan can pursue lawful ways to obtain relevant evidence, but that takes time and requires enough information.”
“She knows now. Luis wrote it down.”
“That may help.”
“May.”
Rebecca folded her hands. “You’re going to hear that word often.”
“Everyone talks like nothing is real.”
“Everyone talks carefully because several processes are happening at once, and each has different rules.”
“My dad doesn’t talk carefully.”
“He talks strategically.”
Chloe looked up.
Rebecca’s mouth tightened. “That was more opinion than I intended to give you.”
“It’s true.”
“Yes.”
The criminal case moved more slowly than Chloe expected and faster than she could emotionally follow. Detective Morgan arranged a recorded forensic interview with a specialist trained to speak with minors. Chloe agreed, then canceled the morning of the appointment.
She claimed her ribs hurt.
They did, but not enough to explain the cancellation.
A second appointment was scheduled. Chloe arrived, sat in the waiting room for twenty minutes, and left before the interviewer called her name.
Ruth found her outside beside a vending machine, pressing the cold surface of a soda can against her wrist.
“We can go home,” Ruth said.
“You’re supposed to make me stay.”
“I’m supposed to get you here. I’m not supposed to drag you into a room.”
“They’ll think I’m lying.”
“Some people may.”
Chloe looked at the can. She had not opened it.
“Do you?”
“No.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know you sleep with a chair under the doorknob even though the door locks.”
May you like
Chloe’s face went hot.
“I also know you count the stairs every time you come down,” Ruth continued. “You check the back seat before getting into my car. You apologize when I drop things. None of that proves who hurt you. It tells me something happened.”
