Chapter 7 - The Family Version
I called Dad at seven the next morning.
"You signed a statement saying Emma grabbed the skillet."
"Patricia wrote it. She said we needed a clear account."
"Did you see Emma grab it?"
"No."
"Then it's not an account. It's a lie."
He sounded winded. "Rachel, your sister has a child. If she's arrested, what happens to Lily?"
"She goes somewhere safe. Why is that harder to imagine than Emma getting hurt?"
For once he couldn't answer.
By then the family group had split into people demanding that I stop talking and people privately asking how Emma was doing. Nobody wanted to challenge Mom in the chat. My cousin Ben sent me twenty dollars for parking and a message that read, I'm sorry I stayed quiet at Christmas. I didn't know it would get this bad.
I called him. "What happened at Christmas?"
"Vanessa yanked Emma away from the presents when Lily wanted the pink bag. Your mom told us it was a misunderstanding."
I remembered Emma crying that night, saying her arm hurt. I'd believed Mom when she said the children had been playing too roughly.
"Will you tell the detective what you saw?"
"Yes," Ben said. "I should've said something then."
At the hospital, Dr. Shah told me Emma might go home soon if she continued improving, but she would need follow-up care and a quiet routine. I asked how to make her feel safe around ordinary things like breakfast.
"Give her choices wherever you can," the doctor said. "And let her know the adults will handle the danger."
That afternoon, Vanessa left a voicemail. Her voice sounded tired rather than angry.
"Rachel, I never meant for it to hit her face. I was just trying to get her away from the table. Mom said you'd understand once everyone cooled down."
May you like
I played it once, then forwarded it to Brooks.
For the first time, Vanessa had stopped saying Emma pulled the skillet down.
