Chương 10
“Not yet.”
“Then move one box at a time.”
“I know how to preserve evidence.”
“You also know how to be emotionally involved.”
I hated that she was right.
The third cardboard box contained winter boots.
The fourth held framed photographs wrapped in towels.
In one frame, Taylor and I stood outside a courthouse after his sister’s wedding, both of us laughing because rain had ruined everyone’s hair.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
There had been good years.
That fact kept trying to defend him.
I set the photograph aside.
The fifth box was heavier than the others.
Tax Returns and Misc., Taylor had written across the top in black marker.
My pulse changed.
“Found something?”
“Maybe.”
“Photograph it before opening.”
I did.
Then I cut the packing tape.
Inside were hanging folders, an old printer cable, two expired passports, and the gray fireproof document case.
The combination dial was set to zero.
I knew the code.
Lily’s birthday.
I stopped with my hand above it.
“Michelle.”
“Yes.”
“If I know the combination because it was our shared document box, am I allowed to open it?”
“Allowed is not the question I want you answering alone at four in the morning.”
“So no.”
“So wait.”
I sat back on my heels.
Waiting was unbearable.
The possibility that proof existed six inches from my hand seemed almost physical.
“What if Taylor comes here?”
“Does he have a key?”
“He shouldn’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I looked toward the apartment door.
He had returned my spare key when I moved out.
I had watched him place it on the counter.
Then I remembered how many copies we had once made for neighbors, relatives, babysitters, and a dog walker we stopped using two years ago.
“I’m changing the locks.”
“You rent.”
“Then I’m calling management.”
“At four in the morning?”
“I’ll leave a message.”
“Good.”
I stood.
Michelle exhaled through the phone.
“You are not going back to the house today unless law enforcement specifically requires it.”
“I still have belongings there.”
“Your belongings are not the priority.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
That irritated me.
“I pulled my daughter out of a freezer tonight, Michelle.”
“I know exactly what you did.”
Her voice softened.
“That’s why I’m saying you are not going back there angry.”
I looked at the fireproof box.
“I’m not angry.”
She let the silence answer for her.
When we ended the call, I carried the unopened case into my bedroom and placed it on the top shelf of the closet.
Then I moved a chair beneath the apartment door handle.
The gesture made me feel ridiculous.
It also let me breathe.
I lay beside Lily again without sleeping.
At six thirteen, she woke and asked for cereal.
The request felt almost miraculous.
I gave her two choices.
She picked the sugary one I usually limited to weekends.
I poured too much.
Neither of us commented.
She sat at the table wearing my old Army physical training shirt because her clothes from the hospital smelled like freezer air and antiseptic.
The shirt hung nearly to her knees.
She ate three spoonfuls and stared at the bowl.
“Can I miss school?”
“Yes.”
“Even though it’s Friday?”
“Yes.”
“Will Daddy call the school?”
The question was too immediate.
“Maybe.”
“Will they make me go with him?”
“No one is taking you anywhere without me knowing.”
She looked at me.
“That sounds like a Mom answer.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you changed the words.”
I leaned against the counter.
“You’re very difficult to deceive before coffee.”
“You don’t drink coffee.”
“Exactly.”
She almost smiled.
My phone rang.
Michelle.
I answered in the kitchen.
“The emergency petition is filed.”
“What happens now?”
“A judge reviews it.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
I closed my eyes.
Of all the phrases I had heard since opening the freezer, I don’t know had become the hardest.
“CPS?”
“Monique’s initial report supports Lily remaining with you pending investigation.”
“And Taylor?”
“His attorney called again.”
“What does he want now?”
“A written agreement that neither party enters the Aspen Ridge property without notice.”
“That’s his house.”
“Yes.”
“Why would he restrict himself?”
“He wouldn’t.”
I understood.
“He wants to restrict me.”
“Correct.”
“Because there’s evidence there.”
“Maybe.”
“Because he thinks I’ll find it.”
“Maybe.”
I looked toward the bedroom closet.
“What about the fireproof box?”
“I’m arranging for it to be turned over directly to the detective assigned to the case.”
“You think there’s something on the drive.”
“I think we don’t know.”
Michelle paused.
“And you need to get comfortable with not knowing until somebody examines it properly.”
“I’m getting very tired of people telling me that.”
“I’m getting very tired of representing people who destroy useful evidence by opening files and clicking around.”
Fair.
“Detective’s name?”
“Lauren Kim.”
“When will she come?”
“She’ll call.”
I heard papers moving on Michelle’s end.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Taylor filed a response.”
“That fast?”
“His attorney was waiting.”
“Of course he was.”
“He’s alleging that your military schedule creates instability and that you’re exploiting an isolated disciplinary incident to interfere with custody.”
I gripped the counter.
“An isolated disciplinary incident.”
“I know.”
“Does he deny the freezer?”
“The filing says he was not present and had no knowledge of any inappropriate confinement.”
“What about the closet?”
“Not mentioned.”
I looked at Lily.
She was moving cereal pieces into separate groups by color.
“Does he mention Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
“He describes her as a longtime caregiver with no prior complaints.”
“That’s because the seven-year-old was afraid to complain.”
“I know.”
“He’s using my job.”
“Yes.”
“My command.”
“Potentially.”
I felt an old, familiar pressure settle between my shoulder blades.
For nearly twenty years, competence had been my shelter.
Now the same career that proved I could lead hundreds of people might be used to argue that I could not care for one child.
“What do I need from work?”
May you like
“Your actual schedule.”
“I can get it.”
