PART 3
Not the school nurse. Me. And the realization hit me instantly. She was pausing to see if I was going to spill the secret. “She mentioned that somebody monitors if she talks,” I stated quietly. Mrs. Fox’s facial expression shifted. Not dramatically. No sharp gasps. No hands clapped over her mouth. She simply grew completely still. “Who watches?” she inquired. Kaylee’s lips parted slightly. Then pressed shut again. Mrs. Fox slid her chair a bit nearer, though maintaining a careful distance. “You aren’t in trouble,” she assured her. “Nobody in this room is mad at you.” Kaylee kept her gaze locked on the floorboards. “She’ll find out.” “Who will?” “She always knows.” Mrs. Alvarez, the nurse, turned her attention toward me. There was a weight in that glance that made my stomach plunge. This wasn’t the initial time the nurse had encountered something unsettling. Yet it was the first occasion Kaylee had actually voiced it aloud. Mrs. Fox pressed on, “Does she cause your feet pain?” Kaylee gave a negative head shake. “Does she hurt you anywhere else?” Another shake. “Has she ever physically harmed you?” Absolute stillness. Followed by a very faint whisper: “Only where people can’t see.” Mia stopped swinging her legs back and forth. I felt her small fingers grip tighter around mine. Without hesitation, Mrs. Fox stepped in: “Mia, sweetheart, why don’t you accompany Mrs. Alvarez for a little bit? She has some coloring books waiting in her office.” “But—” “Mia, please.” I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine.” She glanced over at Kaylee. “I’ll be right back here.” Kaylee offered a small nod. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Mrs. Fox shifted her focus back to me. “Give me every detail.” So I complied. I recounted everything regarding the shoes. The socks. The trace of blood. The hidden note. The exact sentence Kaylee had murmured. And I laid out precisely what I had witnessed the previous night, leaving out anything I couldn’t verify. Mrs. Fox documented it all on paper. “Did you capture photographs of the injuries?” “Yes.” “Do you still possess the footwear?” “They remain inside my bag.” “Excellent.” She glanced up at the wall clock. 7:31 AM. “Has Kaylee’s father been notified yet?” “Negative.” “Please refrain from contacting him for the moment.” I raised my head in surprise. “Why is that?” “Because proper protocols must be followed.” Her tone remained steady, yet an underlying urgency pulsed through it. “And should abuse genuinely be happening at home, we want to avoid tipping off anyone who might pressure Kaylee before she can be properly interviewed.” My mouth went instantly dry. “Are you implying that you believe—” “I’m stating that we possess sufficient grounds to treat this with utmost seriousness.” She reached for the desk phone. “I’ve already alerted our district safeguarding lead.” Next came a second, briefer phone call. This one wrapped up in under a minute. As she set the receiver down, she announced, “Child Protective Services is being brought into this.” Those letters echoed heavily inside the confines of that tiny office. CPS. I had encountered those acronyms before. Typically linked to discussions surrounding other people’s circumstances. Alternative families. Unrelated children. Never Kaylee. Not the sweet girl who had spent the previous Christmas crafting paper snowflakes at my kitchen island alongside Mia. I stared down at the grocery bag. The pink sneakers rested quietly inside. Abruptly, they no longer resembled ordinary footwear. They looked like tangible evidence. By 7:46, an investigator named Detective Laura Bennett walked in. civilian clothing rather than a uniform. A dark blazer. Black trousers. A compact badge clipped neatly to her belt. She introduced herself to Mrs. Fox, and then to me. “I represent the county child protection division.” She bypassed handshakes entirely. Taking a seat, she addressed me directly. “Mrs. Carter, I’d like you to walk me through last night’s events just as they transpired.” I repeated the narrative from the beginning. This time around, I picked up on nuances that escaped me initially. The micro-pauses. The specific phrasing of her inquiries. The notable absence of her asking for my personal theories on what took place. She only cared about what I observed. Once I concluded, her gaze shifted to the bag. “May I examine the shoes?” I handed them over. Donning gloves, she carefully unsealed the carrier. She inspected the laces. The worn soles. The interior lining. Followed by snapping photographs of every angle. “Make sure not to discard these.” “I won’t.” “Leave the socks unwashed.” “They are tucked inside.” “Good.” She fixed her eyes on me. “Did Kaylee explicitly utter the phrase ‘she checks if I told’?” “Word for word.” “Positively?” “Positively.” “Did she specify who ‘she’ referred to?” “She didn’t.” “Yet you suspect her stepmother?” “I strongly believe so.” “On what grounds?” I paused briefly. “Because of the written note.” I passed it across the desk. She scanned it twice through. Her jaw visibly tightened. “Do you happen to know if Tasha Whitman authored this?” “I cannot confirm that.” “Where did you discover it?” “Tucked inside Kaylee’s school backpack.” “Was the bag left unzipped?” “No. Kaylee kept it close to her at all times.” “Did she grant you permission to inspect the contents?” I stared at her blankly. “No, she didn’t.” Detective Bennett gave an understanding nod. “That is entirely fine. Leave that concern aside; we are logging all details.” Then came the inquiry that brought my heart to a halt. “Has Kaylee ever suggested to your daughter that someone inside her home inflicts pain upon her?” “I am unaware of such a conversation.” “Please refrain from questioning Mia yourself.” “For what reason?” “Because she is eight years old. Should a formal interview become necessary, we prefer conducting it properly to prevent accidentally planting suggestions.” I nodded in agreement. At that moment, the door swung open. Mrs. Alvarez reappeared, looking visibly pale. “She is asking for you.” I stood up instantly. Kaylee sat perched upon the medical examination table in the nurse’s quarters. Her sneakers were gone. Her feet were wrapped neatly in white gauze. Mia sat right beside her, clutching the stuffed llama brought from home. Kaylee looked up as I entered. “Am I allowed to come home with you?” That single query struck me harder than anything else that morning. I glanced toward Detective Bennett. She offered a minimal, approving nod. “We are going to sort out the next steps together,” she reassured Kaylee. Kaylee shook her head stubbornly. “I refuse to go back home.” Not a single person corrected her. Nobody insisted she needed to display bravery. Mrs. Alvarez crouched down to eye level. “You are completely secure right here.” Kaylee turned her eyes back to me. “Can I stay with Mia instead?” I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. “I will do everything in my power to keep you protected.” She reached out and grabbed my hand. And I held it tight.