Chương 7
Claire nodded gratefully.
"Thank you."
Denise crouched far enough away that Liam could see her without feeling cornered.
"Hi, Liam."
He did not answer.
"That's okay."
She looked at Claire.
"I need to ask you a few questions, and some of them may sound repetitive."
"Okay."
"Who was he with today?"
"His father."
"Any other adults?"
Claire named Cynthia and Marilyn.
She hesitated over Austin.
"Another child was there."
Denise typed into a tablet.
"How old?"
"Five or six."
"Related?"
"Cynthia's son."
Denise's fingers paused for a fraction of a second.
"Okay."
She continued.
"When did you last see Liam before today?"
"Friday afternoon."
"And how was he then?"
"Clean."
Claire looked at his face.
"Happy."
The word felt weak.
"He didn't want me to leave."
Denise nodded.
"Any marks on him then?"
"Not that I saw."
"Any medical conditions?"
"No."
"Any medication?"
"No."
"Allergies?"
"Penicillin."
Liam shifted.
Denise looked at him.
"You're doing great, buddy."
He tucked his face deeper into Claire's shoulder.
Denise did not repeat herself.
Instead, she stood and washed her hands.
"I'm going to get his temperature and oxygen level first."
Claire explained each thing before Denise touched him.
The thermometer in his ear made him recoil.
The small red light from the pulse oximeter fascinated him enough that he allowed it to stay on his finger.
"Ninety-nine percent," Denise said.
Liam looked at Claire.
"Is that good?"
"It is."
His shoulders lowered slightly.
The exam proceeded in pieces.
Denise weighed him while Claire held both his hands.
He refused to stand alone.
When Denise asked to see his feet, Liam lifted them one at a time from Claire's lap.
There were small abrasions along the soles and a shallow scrape near his right heel.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing that explained the dread settled in Claire's stomach.
Denise photographed the visible marks with a clinic-issued device after asking Claire for permission.
When she reached the red mark on Liam's wrist, Claire saw Liam's face change.
His gaze fixed on the wall.
Denise stopped.
"We don't have to do that right this second."
Liam whispered, "It was the door."
Claire looked at him.
Denise stayed still.
"What about the door?"
He pressed his lips together.
Claire rubbed his knee.
"You don't have to tell us."
His eyes moved to hers.
"The handle was too high."
Claire waited.
"I pulled."
He wrapped one hand around his opposite wrist.
"And it hurt."
Denise's voice stayed gentle.
"Did something hold your wrist?"
Liam shook his head.
"I pulled hard."
Claire breathed out slowly.
The mark could have come from pressure against the edge of something.
It could also have come from something else.
The uncertainty was almost worse.
Denise did not guess.
She typed exactly what he had said.
A few minutes later, a physician came in.
Her name was Dr. Patel.
She was in her forties, wore running shoes beneath her black pants, and had the tired but focused expression of somebody halfway through a long shift.
She spoke to Liam first.
"Hi."
He looked at her through Claire's hair.
"I'm Priya."
He said nothing.
"I like your hair."
Mara snorted softly from the chair near the door.
Claire turned.
Mara shrugged.
"What?"
Dr. Patel glanced at Liam's tangled hair.
"It has commitment."
Liam blinked.
One corner of his mouth moved.
Dr. Patel smiled.
"There it is."
She examined him slowly.
His lungs sounded clear.
His abdomen was soft but mildly tender around the center.
He had no fever.
No obvious signs of serious physical injury.
Claire felt relief arrive, but it came contaminated with guilt.
Relief felt too close to minimizing.
Dr. Patel seemed to recognize that.
"His exam is reassuring medically."
Claire nodded.
"But?"
"But the history matters."
Dr. Patel pulled the rolling stool closer.
"A child being confined and unable to get out, especially for an uncertain amount of time, is something we have to take seriously."
Claire swallowed.
"What happens now?"
"We document what we see."
Dr. Patel folded her hands.
"We also have mandatory reporting obligations when we have reasonable concern for neglect or abuse."
The words seemed to alter the air in the room.
Mara sat straighter.
Claire looked at Liam.
He was peeling the backing from a tiger sticker Denise had given him.
"Does that mean police?"
"Not necessarily right this minute."
Dr. Patel kept her voice low.
"It generally means a report to child protective services, and they determine next steps."
Claire felt the familiar urge to control everything.
"Can I stop that?"
"No."
The answer was kind without being soft.
Claire nodded once.
"Okay."
Her phone vibrated again.
Marilyn.
This time it was a call.
Claire stared at the screen.
Dr. Patel stood.
She left the room.
Denise followed.
The door clicked shut.
Mara pointed at the phone.
"Answer."
Claire looked at Liam.
He was trying to stick the tiger to the sleeve of his dirty shirt.
"Can you take him for a second?"
Mara held out her arms.
Liam looked at her.
"I have emergency aunt credentials."
He considered this.
"What credentials?"
Mara looked at Claire.
"He's four and already asking for documentation."
Claire almost laughed.
Liam did.
It was barely a sound, but it was unmistakable.
He let Mara lift him.
Claire stepped into the hallway before answering.
"Marilyn."
There was breathing on the other end.
Then the older woman's voice.
"Where are you?"
"At urgent care."
A pause.
"Is he hurt?"
"Not seriously, from what they can tell."
Marilyn exhaled.
Claire's hand tightened around the phone.
"How long?"
The silence that followed was not confusion.
It was preparation.
"Claire."
"How long was he in that room?"
"I don't know exactly."
"Then tell me what you do know."
Marilyn swallowed audibly.
"Jeffrey put him in there a little after eleven."
Claire looked at the clock on the hallway wall.
It was almost four.
"What time did you arrive?"
"About noon."
"And Liam was already in there?"
"Yes."
Claire leaned against the wall.
May you like
"When did he come out?"
Another pause.
