Chapter 3: The Woman at the Door
“What did you sign?” I asked.
Maya wiped her cheeks with both hands.
“Lauren said it was for school.
She covered most of the page and showed me where to write my name.”
Lauren let go of the doorknob.
“She knew exactly what it was.”
“She’s ten.”
“She can read.”
I stepped between her and Maya.
“Where is the document?”
“You’re not entitled to it.”
“I’m her father.”
“And I’m the person who has been raising her while you work late.”
Noah moved beside Maya.
“Mom told me not to let her read it.”
Lauren spun toward him.
“Go upstairs.”
“No.”
It was such a quiet answer that even Lauren seemed startled.
I tapped the hidden phone and forwarded the messages and photographs to my own number.
Lauren reached for it, but I pulled it away.
“Give me my property,” she said.
“You used this phone to plan against my daughter.”
“If you keep it, I’ll tell the police you stole it.”
“Tell them.”
Her face hardened.
“You think everyone will believe you because you’re Maya’s father?
Those pictures show a miserable child.
Mr.
Bell knows exactly what to do with them.”
Maya gripped my shirt.
“Dad, am I going away?”
“No.
You’re staying with me.”
Lauren gave a short laugh.
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Daniel.”
Her use of my name sounded colder than shouting.
Noah opened the bottom kitchen cabinet and pulled out Maya’s backpack.
“Mom put this here.”
Inside were pajamas, a toothbrush, Maya’s birth certificate, and a bus ticket to my sister Claire’s town.
The ticket was for Friday morning.
“You packed this?” I asked Lauren.
“She said she wanted to live with Claire.”
Maya shook her head so hard her hair struck her cheeks.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You told me you hated it here.”
“You told me Dad would be happier if I left.”
Lauren’s mouth tightened.
“Children twist words.”
“No,” Noah said.
“You twisted hers.”
The doorbell rang before Lauren could answer.
She glanced at the clock and smoothed the front of her sweater.
“You were expecting someone,” I said.
“I was expecting help.”
I opened the door.
A woman stood on the porch holding an identification card and a thick folder.
“Daniel Mercer?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“My name is Helen Shaw.
I’m with Child and Family Services.
We received an urgent report concerning Maya.”
Lauren stepped up behind me and changed her voice completely.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said, sounding close to tears.
“I’ve been trying to protect these children for months.”
Helen looked from Lauren to Maya, then down at the photographs clipped inside her folder.
The first picture showed Maya holding the packed bag.
May you like
Beneath it was a signed statement in Maya’s name.
At the bottom of the page, beside the words “witnessed and approved,” was a signature that looked exactly like mine.
