Chapter 5 - The Call I Didn't Hear
I didn't hear Daniel make the call. That was the point. He left our house just after seven and I was already in bed with Bunny pressed against my chest, even though it wasn't really bedtime yet.
Mom had walked me to my room and pulled the door most of the way shut. She didn't read to me. She said I needed to calm down and think about how stories could get mixed up. Daddy was downstairs talking on the phone in the kitchen, his voice low. I could hear the refrigerator open and close and the clink of a plate. The Christmas tree lights were still on in the living room and they made a colored glow on my ceiling through the crack in my door. I kept my red dress folded on the floor instead of hanging it up and I held Bunny so tight his pink nose left a dent on my chin.
Daniel told me later what happened after he got to his apartment over the hardware store on Main. He sat in his kitchen and wrote things down before he called, so he wouldn't forget anything or make it sound bigger or smaller than it was.
He called the county number. Not 911. The after-hours child welfare hotline that was listed on the county website. A woman answered and asked if this was an emergency. He said no, but it needed to be reported tonight. He gave his name and said he was Sophia's maternal uncle. He described what he'd seen without guessing. The dark purple mark on my left forearm, the size of a thumbprint. The multiple marks around my right knee and down my shin, reddish-purple, ranging from a quarter to two inches. He said I was clutching a cream plush bunny with a pink nose and black eyes the whole time and that I'd lifted my dress myself to show him. Then he repeated what I'd said, word for word. "Daddy says we have a secret game. It hurts." He told her I was five, that my mom was Lauren and my dad was at home, that the kitchen had been lit and warm and that Mom had called me from the living room while I was talking to him. The woman read it back to him and gave him a report number. She said someone would do a welfare check in the morning and that he should not try to investigate himself.
I fell asleep before Mom came back to check on me. I woke up once when my door opened and Daddy stood there for a second without coming in, then closed it again.
The doorbell rang at 8:14 the next morning. I know because I was sitting on the living room rug watching cartoons in my pajamas and the microwave clock was right there.
Mom answered it. She was already dressed in jeans and a gray sweater, her hair still damp. Daddy was right behind her in his work shirt, holding his coffee.
There were two people on our front step. A woman in a navy puffy coat with a county badge clipped to it and a clipboard, and a deputy in a brown sheriff's uniform with a radio on his shoulder that kept crackling. The air that came in was cold and smelled like snow. The woman introduced herself first. She said she was Ms. Alvarez from Child Protective Services and this was Deputy Cole, and they were following up on a call about a child's welfare at this address.
Daddy's shoulders went up. Mom put her hand on the doorframe and said, "Is there some kind of misunderstanding?"
Ms. Alvarez was calm. She said they needed to speak with both parents at the door and then, separately and briefly, with Sophia. She asked if they could step inside so I wasn't standing in the cold. Daddy stepped back and let them in, but he stayed between them and me.
The deputy didn't look at me much at first. He looked at the house. At the tree, at the kitchen island, at the hallway. Ms. Alvarez crouched a little so she wasn't towering over me. She had short dark hair and kind eyes and she didn't reach for me.
"Hi, Sophia," she said. "I'm Jen. Is it okay if I talk with you for a few minutes in your living room while your mom and dad talk with the deputy in the kitchen? I'll stay where your mom can see you."
Mom said quickly, "She's shy. I should stay right with her."
Ms. Alvarez nodded like she expected that. "You can be right there by the doorway, Mom, so Sophia feels safe but can use her own words. Is that okay, Sophia?"
I nodded. Bunny was under my arm. I hadn't let go of him since I woke up. Mom moved to lean against the archway between the living room and the kitchen. She crossed her arms. Daddy stayed in the kitchen with the deputy, close enough to hear everything.
Ms. Alvarez sat on the edge of the couch, not too close. She asked me how old I was and what grade I was in and what Bunny's name was. I told her he was just Bunny. She asked if anything hurt on my body right now.
I looked at Mom before I answered. Her mouth was tight.
I pulled up the sleeve of my pajama top just a little. The mark on my left forearm was darker in the morning light, almost brown at the edge. Ms. Alvarez didn't touch it. She just looked and wrote something down.
"Can you tell me how that happened?" she asked, soft.
I swallowed. The living room was too quiet except for the cartoon still playing with the volume low.
"Daddy says we have a secret game," I said. My voice was small. "It hurts."
Ms. Alvarez repeated it gently to make sure she had it right. "Daddy says you have a secret game and it hurts."
I nodded and squeezed Bunny.
"Thank you for telling me that, Sophia," she said. "Can you tell me more about the game?"
I felt Mom shift in the doorway. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, shaking her head just a tiny bit, like don't.
My throat closed up. I buried my face a little in Bunny's head and didn't answer. Ms. Alvarez waited a beat and then didn't push. She asked if anyone else had seen the marks. I whispered, "Uncle Daniel." She asked if Mom knew about the secret game and I just held Bunny tighter and looked at the carpet.
After a minute she stood up and said thank you to me. She went to the kitchen and spoke quietly with the deputy. I heard her say "forensic interview" and "advocacy center" and "tomorrow at ten." Daddy said something about being at work and Mom said, "She's only five, this is a lot for a misunderstanding."
Ms. Alvarez handed Mom a paper with her card stapled to it. She said a case was now open and that someone from the Child Advocacy Center would call within the hour to schedule a full interview. She said Sophia was not to be questioned further at home and that both parents were expected to cooperate and make her available. The deputy told Daddy not to discuss the report with me.
When they left, the cold air went with them. Mom closed the door and locked it and stood there with her hand still on the lock. Daddy picked up his coffee even though it had to be cold by then.
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Mom looked at me on the rug. "We have to go to a special appointment tomorrow," she said. Her voice was flat. "Just to clear this up so your uncle stops worrying."
I didn't know what an advocacy center was. I just knew the report number Daniel had written down on a sticky note was now in a file with my name on it, and that someone had written down exactly what I'd said in the kitchen while holding Bunny.
