I wanted to hide.
I had spent more than a week making myself invisible whenever someone asked about Mom.
But Lucy had just played the truth aloud.
I could not crawl back into the lie.
“You left before sunrise,” I continued.
“You took the pink suitcase.
He honked once.
Lucy gave Sam the last food in the house that night.”
Mom’s mouth tightened.
“You are a child.
You do not understand adult problems.”
“No,” Lucy said.
“He understands hunger.”
The younger social worker crouched beside Anna and Sophia.
Her expression had changed completely.
The day before, she had looked at us as a problem requiring relocation.
Now she was looking at our faces.
The officer asked Mom where she had been staying.
“With Everett,” she answered after a hesitation.
“And why did you return today?”
“I came for my children.”
“After social services became involved?”
“I did not know they were involved.”
Everett interrupted.
“She has been trying to contact Lucy constantly.”
Lucy raised the phone again.
“No, she hasn’t.”
The officer asked to see the call history.
Lucy handed him the phone.
Mom had called only twice after leaving.
One call contained the message telling Lucy not to contact her.
The second had lasted eleven seconds and consisted of Mom demanding that Lucy find a missing pair of shoes.
Everett shifted toward the doorway.
The officer noticed.
“Please remain here, sir.”
“I have done nothing wrong.”
Mrs.
Miller gave a humorless laugh.
“Then standing still should be easy.”
The older social worker asked Lucy how long she had worked for Everett.
“Six months.”
“How many hours?”
“Usually six at night.
More on weekends.”
“Were you paid through payroll?”
Lucy looked at Everett.
“Cash envelopes.”
Everett’s jaw tightened.
“She requested cash.”
“Because you said paperwork would take weeks,” Lucy replied.
“And because I needed groceries that night.”
She opened her cleaning bag and removed three folded envelopes.
Each carried Everett’s initials in blue ink.
On the back of one, he had written the hours Lucy owed after leaving early when Sam developed a fever.
The social worker placed the envelopes inside a clear evidence sleeve from her folder.
Mom folded her arms.
