Chapter 17 - The Smallest Witness
I turned around. Alma stood beside the courthouse family advocate, carrying the same sea-turtle book she'd held at school. My chest tightened. I hadn't wanted her dragged into an adult fight. Lena had explained that the court would protect her from unnecessary questions, and that the advocate could summarize concerns she had already reported to her school counselor.
The judge reviewed those reports rather than putting Alma on the witness stand. I watched Beatriz's expression as the counselor's written account was discussed: Alma had heard me calling, had gone to find her grandmother, and had been told to stop listening.
"Grandma said Mommy was making her sick with worry," Alma had told the counselor. "She said if I told Daddy, he would leave us."
A sound escaped Beatriz. It wasn't a denial. It sounded like someone seeing herself from a height she hadn't expected.
The judge issued temporary orders restricting Beatriz's contact with me and the children while the related matters were reviewed. The court did not decide every question that day. There would be further proceedings, and the police investigation into the documents and the events at the house remained separate.
But for the first time, a rule existed that Beatriz couldn't rewrite simply by raising her voice.
In the courthouse hallway, Daniel stopped outside the door where Alma waited with Ruth.
"I heard what she told the counselor," he said. "I didn't know she was carrying all that."
"Neither did I," I replied. "That's why she needs help, not a lecture about being strong."
He nodded and asked if I'd agree to a counselor who specialized in children after frightening family events. I had already asked Lena for referrals.
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As we left, my phone vibrated with a message from the neonatal unit. It wasn't the daily update we usually received.
PLEASE CALL US AS SOON AS YOU CAN ABOUT NICOLÁS.
