Chapter 9 - The Truth in a Small Room
The courthouse room had green walls and a box of tissues shaped like a little house. A woman named Ms. Dalton told me she was appointed to represent my interests, not Mom's or Dad's. She said I could take breaks, and that if I didn't know an answer, saying so was better than guessing.
I told her about the sink. About Dad holding Mom's hair, the wet blouse, the way he struck me after I tried to pull him back. I told her I'd been scared before that day, too. Once he'd broken my favorite lamp because I left a light on. Another time he made Mom apologize to him for crying.
"Do you want to see your father right now?" she asked.
My throat tightened. "I want him to stop being scary."
"That's not quite the same question," she said kindly. "You don't have to make a final decision today."
The hearing was held with security arrangements that kept us away from Ryan. Mom's attorney, Leah Bennett, showed the judge the police reports, photographs, and an emergency protection application. Ryan's lawyer argued that Mom had lied and taken me because she feared questions about a past criminal case.
The judge interrupted. "A witness relocation doesn't give anyone permission to assault his family. Is your client disputing the injuries?"
His lawyer said there were 'different accounts.' The judge granted Mom temporary sole custody and ordered Ryan to have no contact with us while the cases proceeded.
Mom hugged me in the parking garage. For a second she seemed like the person who used to sing along badly to the radio.
Then Nolan approached with a manila folder.
"The court sealed the new address," he said. "But somebody sent Sarah's former legal name to a local crime blogger overnight. It's spreading."
May you like
Mom looked toward the garage entrance. "If they can tell people who I used to be, they can start asking where I am."
Nolan nodded. "We're moving you again. Today."
