Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN ON THE PORCH
Maya had warned me someone might come.
That did not make it easier to open the door.
Two county workers stood on the porch. Behind them, at the curb, was Diane.
She wore a cream coat, pearl earrings, and the wounded expression of a woman arriving at a funeral.
The moment she saw me, she pressed a hand to her chest.
“Oh, thank God the children are alive.”
I nearly laughed from disbelief.
The older caseworker introduced herself as Ms. Patel. “We received a report alleging food deprivation, prolonged unsupervised periods, and threats inside the home.”
Diane stepped forward. “I tried to protect them.”
“Stay off my property,” I said.
Her eyes sharpened. “This is exactly the anger I warned them about.”
Maya arrived ten minutes later and took control of the conversation before I could make things worse.
The workers inspected the house and asked about my schedule, the children, and Michael’s death.
Then they asked to speak with the twins separately.
Lily went first.
She came out twenty minutes later holding a stuffed rabbit against her chest.
Then Noah went in.
When Ms. Patel finally stepped back into the living room, her expression had changed.
“Mrs. Carter, your children gave very consistent accounts.”
My knees almost gave out.
“About me?”
“About their grandmother.”
Outside, Diane stopped pretending to look calm.
She moved toward the front steps. “They’ve been coached.”
Ms. Patel turned. “Mrs. Whitmore, please remain where you are.”
Diane ignored her.
“You have no idea what Rachel is capable of,” she snapped. “My son knew.”
The room went quiet.
I stared at her.
“What did you just say?”
Diane smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
“My son knew you were unstable long before he died.”
May you like
Then she reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded document.
“I have his statement.”
