Chương 13
Grandma said, “Nobody touches that phone except Claire.”
The practical certainty in her voice steadied me.
I took screenshots anyway, then forwarded them to Marisol with the number visible.
“Do you know it?” I asked Diane.
She came closer but did not touch the screen.
“No.”
“Tessa ever use it?”
“Not with me.”
Hannah stared at the number.
“I don’t know it.”
“Don’t guess.”
“I’m not.”
My phone rang almost immediately.
Marisol did not bother with hello.
“Call 911.”
My chest tightened.
“You think this is Trent?”
“I think you have a direct message saying he knows your location after we confirmed he is in the county.”
“Could be Tessa.”
“Could be someone else.”
“So we don’t know.”
“No.”
The old phrase again.
This time it sounded like a reason to act.
“I’m calling.”
“Keep everyone inside.”
“We are.”
“Do not respond to the number.”
“I won’t.”
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Do not go to the window if anyone pulls up.”
I looked at the front curtains.
I had already been doing exactly that.
“Okay.”
The dispatcher kept me on the line for nearly eight minutes.
I gave Grandma’s address, my name, Hannah’s age, the foster-care context, Trent’s name, the no-contact condition as Marisol had described it, and the messages word for word.
The dispatcher asked whether Trent had ever been violent.
I looked at Hannah.
She was listening.
“Yes,” I said.
The case file had used more careful language.
There had been a domestic assault charge involving Tessa and a separate allegation that never resulted in prosecution.
I did not repeat either in front of Hannah.
The dispatcher told us officers were being sent.
Grandma went around the first floor checking windows.
Mark followed her without asking.
At the dining-room window, she pointed to the latch and said, “Push harder.”
“I am pushing.”
“You’re touching it.”
“I build retaining walls on weekends.”
“And yet this window remains unlocked.”
He pushed harder.
The latch clicked.
Grandma nodded.
“There.”
Mark looked at Noah.
“Now I understand why your mother is like this.”
Diane, from the kitchen, said, “I heard that.”
“Good.”
Noah pressed his lips together.
I gave Mark a look.
He raised one hand.
“Sorry.”
The apology was for Noah, not Diane.
She noticed.
She did not challenge it.
Hannah moved into the living room and sat on the floor between the couch and coffee table.
It was the least visible place from any window.
I sat near her.
“You okay?”
“That’s a dumb question.”
“Yes.”
She pulled her knees up.
“My answer is no.”
“Fair.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
She leaned her head against the couch cushion.
“Good.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged.
“If you said yes, I’d think you were lying.”
We sat quietly.
My phone vibrated twice with messages from Marisol.
She had forwarded the information to the supervising officer handling Trent’s release conditions.
She also said the emergency home assessor was seven minutes away.
The timing felt ridiculous.
Somewhere between a possible threat and police response, a county worker was coming to determine whether Grandma’s smoke detectors worked.
Grandma treated both dangers with equal seriousness.
She climbed onto a kitchen chair to test the detector near the hallway.
It shrieked.
Everyone jumped.
Hannah covered her ears.
Grandma climbed down.
“Works.”
“Please warn us next time,” Mark said.
“If there’s a fire, it won’t warn you politely.”
The doorbell rang again.
Nobody laughed this time.
Grandma looked through the peephole.
“Woman.”
“That narrows it down,” Diane said.
Grandma ignored her.
“County badge.”
I stayed behind the door while Grandma opened it.
The woman introduced herself as Priya Shah from emergency placement services.
She was in her early forties, carrying a tablet and a canvas tote bag that said READ BANNED BOOKS.
She stepped inside, took in six adults and children staring at her, and said, “I assume this is not a normal home visit.”
Grandma said, “Depends on the family.”
Priya blinked.
Then she smiled.
“Fair enough.”
Her assessment was both faster and more invasive than I expected.
She checked smoke alarms, sleeping arrangements, medications, firearms, exits, water temperature, and whether Grandma had working utilities.
Grandma became offended at the water-temperature question.
“I have had hot water since the Carter administration.”
Priya typed something into her tablet.
“I’m glad.”
“You don’t sound glad.”
“I’m concentrating.”
Hannah followed us from room to room at first.
When we reached the guest room, she stopped in the doorway.
The bed had a quilt with faded green squares.
A stack of reunion tablecloths occupied one corner.
A ceramic duck wearing a bonnet sat on the dresser.
Hannah stared at it.
“I’m not sleeping with that.”
Grandma looked offended.
“That belonged to your great-grandmother.”
“It’s watching me.”
“It’s ceramic.”
“That doesn’t help.”
Priya looked at me.
“Can the duck be relocated?”
Grandma crossed her arms.
“No.”
Hannah pointed at it.
“Then I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Grandma stared at her for three seconds.
Then she picked up the duck.
“Your generation has no respect for antiques.”
She carried it into the hallway.
Hannah looked at me.
“See?”
“What?”
“I can negotiate.”
“Apparently.”
Priya’s mouth twitched.
For a few minutes, the house felt almost ordinary again.
Then red and blue light flashed against the front wall.
Two officers arrived.
The younger one spoke with Mark in the entryway while the older officer, Sergeant Ellis, asked to speak with me and Hannah separately.
Hannah immediately said no.
Ellis did not push.
“We can start together.”
She sat on Grandma’s dining-room chair without opening her notebook.
She had silver threaded through her dark hair and a voice that was calmer than the dispatcher’s.
“Tell me what happened today.”
Hannah looked at me.
“Do I have to tell the whole family part?”
“No.”
Ellis glanced toward the kitchen, where Diane stood absolutely still.
“Only what relates to the contact and safety concern.”
Hannah explained the open-house meeting with Tessa in short pieces.
Ellis asked whether Tessa had ever brought Trent up before that day.
“Yes.”
May you like
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
