CHAPTER 2 – “Mom... Don't Let Grandpa Hear Me.”
CHAPTER 2 – “Mom... Don't Let Grandpa Hear Me.”
“Mom…”
The whisper barely carried through the darkness.
Emily's heart stopped.
She pushed the bedroom door open another inch, letting a ribbon of pale morning light spill across the worn wooden floor.
The room smelled wrong.
Not dirty.
Not rotten.
Medicinal.
A heavy mixture of cough syrup, rubbing alcohol, and stale air hung inside a room where the windows had been painted shut years before.
"Sophie?"
Another whisper.
"Please... don't let Grandpa hear me."
Emily rushed across the room.
Her daughter was curled beneath two heavy quilts despite the July heat. Sweat dampened the little girl's blonde hair, and her cheeks glowed with an unhealthy flush. One arm clutched a faded stuffed rabbit so tightly its seams were beginning to split.
The moment Sophie recognized her mother, tears filled her eyes.
She didn't scream.
She didn't smile.
She simply reached out with trembling fingers, as if she wasn't completely sure Emily was real.
Emily dropped to her knees.
"Oh, sweetheart..."
She wrapped Sophie in her arms.
The child winced.
Emily immediately pulled back.
"What happened?"
Sophie shook her head violently.
"No..."
"No talking."
Linda quietly closed the bedroom door behind them.
Downstairs, a floorboard creaked.
Walter.
Emily lowered her voice.
"Did Grandpa hurt you?"
Sophie stared toward the door instead of answering.
Then she whispered so softly Emily almost missed it.
"He says sick girls don't leave the house."
Linda felt cold spread through her chest.
Emily carefully pulled the blanket away.
Purple bruises bloomed across Sophie's upper arm.
Not one.
Several.
Finger-shaped.
Emily's breathing became uneven.
"Who did this?"
Again Sophie refused to answer.
Instead she asked a question that shattered something inside her mother.
"Am I still allowed to go home?"
Emily gathered her close.
"You are home."
Before Sophie could answer, footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Slow.
Measured.
Walter appeared in the doorway.
His expression remained calm.
Almost irritated.
"I wondered how long it would take."
Emily stood immediately.
"What happened to her?"
Walter looked at Sophie instead of Emily.
"Tell your mother you've been difficult."
Silence.
"Sophie."
The little girl buried her face against Emily's shoulder.
Walter sighed.
"She's had a fever for days. Hallucinations. She bruises easily. You know children."
Emily's voice hardened.
"Then why was she locked in this room?"
"So she wouldn't wander."
Linda stepped forward.
"She whispered because she's afraid you'll hear her."
Walter finally looked at Linda.
"I believe you're trespassing."
"I believe you're lying."
For the first time, something flashed behind Walter's polite expression.
Not panic.
Annoyance.
As though the interruption itself offended him.
He folded his hands behind his back.
"You've spent too much time watching crime shows."
Emily ignored him.
She touched Sophie's forehead again.
The child was burning.
"When did you last see a doctor?"
Walter answered before Sophie could.
"Thursday."
"Which doctor?"
He hesitated.
"A clinic."
"What clinic?"
Another pause.
"I don't remember."
Emily stared.
"You don't remember?"
"I've had a lot on my mind."
Linda caught the exchange immediately.
People forget dates.
They forget appointments.
But grandparents who rush sick children to doctors rarely forget where they went.
Emily pulled out her phone.
"I'm calling an ambulance."
Walter moved faster than either woman expected.
His hand closed around her wrist.
"That won't be necessary."
Emily yanked free.
"Don't touch me."
His smile disappeared.
"You're overreacting."
"No."
Emily looked directly into her father's eyes.
"I think I've been underreacting for months."
The room fell silent.
Walter's jaw tightened.
Then he laughed.
A short, dry sound.
"So this is because of your neighbor?"
Linda answered before Emily could.
"No."
She held up the spiral notebook.
"It's because children don't hide behind curtains begging for help when they have the flu."
Walter looked at the notebook.
His face remained unreadable.
"You've been spying on my house."
"I've been watching a child."
Before another word could be spoken, Sophie suddenly began coughing.
Violently.
Her small body shook so hard Emily could barely hold her upright.
Then came something worse.
Blood.
Just a few bright red drops against the white blanket.
Emily froze.
Linda grabbed her phone.
"I'm calling 911."
Walter stepped forward.
"No."
Linda glared at him.
"You don't get to decide that anymore."
She hit the emergency call button.
Within seconds, the dispatcher answered.
"This is 911. What's your emergency?"
Linda never looked away from Walter.
"A nine-year-old girl has a high fever, visible injuries, and she's coughing blood."
Walter quietly closed his eyes.
For the first time that week...
He looked afraid.
Seven minutes later, the first siren echoed through the neighborhood.
Neighbors emerged from porches.
Curtains opened.
Children stopped riding bicycles.
The flashing ambulance lights painted the Harrison house in red and blue.
Two paramedics hurried upstairs.
One knelt beside Sophie.
The other began checking her temperature and oxygen levels.
The younger paramedic frowned almost immediately.
"What medications has she been taking?"
Walter answered.
"Just children's cold medicine."
The paramedic picked up three prescription bottles from the nightstand.
His expression changed.
"These aren't cold medicines."
Emily looked over.
The labels had someone else's name.
Different prescriptions.
Different dosages.
One bottle had nearly emptied.
"What is that?"
The paramedic didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he quietly slipped the bottles into an evidence bag.
Then he looked at his partner.
"We need law enforcement here."
Emily felt the room tilt beneath her feet.
"What do you mean?"
The older paramedic spoke carefully.
"Ma'am..."
"These medications should never have been given to a child."
The hallway became perfectly still.
Walter finally spoke.
"It was a mistake."
Nobody believed him.
Not anymore.
As officers arrived at the front door downstairs, Sophie weakly reached for Emily's hand.
Her tiny fingers trembled.
She leaned close enough that only her mother could hear.
"Mom..."
Emily kissed her forehead.
"I'm here."
Sophie swallowed painfully.
Then, through cracked lips, she whispered the words that would transform the investigation from possible neglect into something far darker.
May you like
"He wasn't trying to make me better..."
"He said if I stayed sleepy... no one would ever find the room upstairs."
