CHAPTER 5
Child Protective Services came Monday morning.
I had spent the entire weekend terrified of that knock.
Daniel came early.
He brought coffee and breakfast sandwiches nobody ate.
Emily paced.
Rosie stayed close to me.
At nine fourteen, a woman named Tasha Greene stood on my porch.
She was calm.
Professional.
Kind without being falsely cheerful.
That helped.
A little.
"I know families are often frightened when we come," she said after sitting down. "My job is to understand what happened and make sure the children are safe."
I nodded.
"My mother told people I'm unstable."
Tasha wrote something.
"Your mother has also contacted our office."
Of course she had.
"What did she say?"
"I can't discuss every detail of another person's report, but the concerns included excessive work absence, inconsistent supervision and emotional volatility."
Daniel leaned forward.
"Claire works. The children are supervised."
"Were supervised," I corrected.
The word hurt.
Tasha looked at me.
"By Diane?"
"Yes."
"And Diane is no longer providing childcare?"
"Never again."
She asked to speak with Emily privately.
My stomach tightened.
Emily looked at me.
"You don't have to protect anybody," I told her. "Just tell the truth."
Tasha took her into the dining room.
Daniel and I sat with Rosie in the living room.
For forty-five minutes, I heard only murmurs.
Once, Emily cried.
Every nerve in my body screamed to go to her.
I stayed seated.
She needed to know an adult could hear the truth without me controlling the conversation.
Then Tasha spoke with Rosie.
That was shorter.
Afterward, she toured the house.
She checked bedrooms.
Food.
Smoke alarms.
Medication storage.
She asked about school, doctors, schedules and custody.
I answered everything.
At noon, she sat across from us again.
"I can't give you a final finding today."
My mouth went dry.
"But I can tell you that I don't have immediate safety concerns regarding the children remaining with either parent."
Daniel exhaled.
I hadn't realized he was holding his breath too.
"What about my mother?" I asked.
Tasha folded her hands.
"Based on what has been reported, Diane should not have unsupervised access to the children while the investigation continues."
"She won't."
"Make sure schools and childcare providers know."
"I already called."
"Put it in writing."
I nodded.
Then she looked directly at me.
"Claire, Emily appears to have carried responsibilities that were not appropriate for her age."
Tears filled my eyes.
"I know."
"She's also expressing a great deal of fear around disappointing adults."
"I know."
"Therapy would be appropriate."
"I already made an appointment."
Tasha's expression softened.
"Good."
After she left, I went into the bathroom and cried.
Not because I was afraid of losing my children anymore.
Because a stranger had met Emily for less than an hour and recognized what I had missed for months.
Maybe years.
Daniel found me.
"Stop."
I wiped my face.
"Stop what?"
"Blaming yourself for every minute."
"I left them with her."
"So did I."
"She's my mother."
"That doesn't make you psychic."
I looked at him.
"You used to say she controlled me."
His eyebrows lifted.
That memory was uncomfortable.
During our marriage, Daniel and Mom had fought constantly.
I had always believed he was jealous of how close we were.
"You weren't completely wrong," I admitted.
He gave a sad laugh.
"That's possibly the nicest thing you've said to me since the divorce."
Despite everything, I laughed too.
It lasted three seconds.
It still felt good.
That afternoon, I called Emily's school.
The secretary confirmed that Mom was listed as an emergency pickup person.
"Remove her."
"Absolutely."
"Can you tell me when she last picked Emily up?"
Keyboard clicking.
"Friday."
"Before that."
More clicking.
"Wednesday."
I frowned.
"I picked Emily up Wednesday."
"No. Mrs. Walker signed her out at one thirty."
My blood went cold.
"That's impossible."
"I have the record."
"Emily was home when I got there at six."
"Then Mrs. Walker must have brought her back."
I stared at the wall.
"How often has she signed Emily out early?"
"I'd need to check."
"Please."
Ten minutes later, the secretary called back.
"Mrs. Bennett?"
"Yes."
"Since January, Mrs. Walker signed Emily out early fourteen times."
Fourteen.
I sat down.
"What reasons were given?"
"Family appointments."
"There were no family appointments."
The secretary went quiet.
"I'm going to have the principal call you."
Emily came downstairs half an hour later.
I didn't want to interrogate her.
Officer Ramirez had warned me.
So I asked only one question.
"Did Grandma sometimes take you out of school early?"
Emily froze.
I immediately knew.
"Mom..."
"It's okay."
"She said you knew."
"I didn't."
Tears filled her eyes.
"She said school wasn't more important than family."
"Where did she take you?"
"Her house."
"Why?"
Emily's breathing changed.
I stopped.
"We don't have to talk about it right now."
She whispered anyway.
"She needed help."
The next morning, the principal called.
They had reviewed security footage.
Every time Mom signed Emily out, she used a handwritten note.
Supposedly from me.
I had never written any of them.
The principal emailed me a copy.
I opened it.
Please allow my mother, Diane Walker, to take Emily home today for a family appointment.
Claire Bennett.
My name.
My signature.
Almost perfect.
Almost.
Except I knew my own handwriting.
My mother had forged it.
I sent the note to the detective assigned to the financial case.
Her name was Detective Morgan Lee.
She called twenty minutes later.
"Claire, we're starting to see a pattern."
I stared at the forged signature.
"What kind of pattern?"
"Your mother appears to have been using your identity, your money and your parental authority whenever it benefited her."
I looked at Emily across the room.
She was painting with the watercolor set I'd given her.
For the first time since Friday, she looked peaceful.
Then Detective Lee said, "I need you to prepare yourself. We found another financial account."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"How much?"
"That's not the biggest problem."
I stopped breathing.
"Then what is?"
"The account wasn't opened in your name."
I looked toward my daughters.
May you like
Detective Lee continued.
"It was opened using Emily's Social Security number."
