I Clutched My Bunny While Daddy Ordered Her Out Before I Said Mommy Died

The knock didn't sound like our knock. It was too even. Three hits, a pause, then two more. I heard it from the hallway where me and my sisters were supposed to be playing with the bunny.

I was sitting on the floor with the bunny in my lap. Its one ear was bent down from where I'd held it too tight. I didn't look at my sisters. I looked past the doorway toward the kitchen island, where Dominic was standing with his hands flat on the marble.

"Stay in there," the maid whispered. She wasn't kneeling anymore. She was standing by the island too, wiping the same spot with a dish towel over and over. She looked at us and then at Dominic.

He nodded once at her, then went to the door.

I heard the door open and daylight and outside air come in. A man's voice said, "Morning. County sheriff. Got a welfare check called in from a neighbor. Heard some shouting a few nights back."

My chest got tight. I picked up the bunny and held it against my stomach. I could hear my own breathing.

Dominic's voice stayed low and even. "Come on in. We're fine here."

Boots on the tile. Slow steps. The sheriff came into view around the island. He wasn't like on TV. He was older, with gray at his temples and a brown uniform shirt that pulled a little at the buttons. He had a notebook, not his gun out. He looked at the island first, the vase and the fruit bowl, then at the piano, then at us in the hallway.

"Those your girls?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dominic said. "My daughters."

The sheriff nodded at us. "Hi there." He didn't smile big. Just a small nod. Then he looked back at Dominic. "Your wife home? I'd like to speak with both adults in the house."

The kitchen got so quiet I could hear the refrigerator humming. The maid stopped wiping.

Dominic didn't move his hands off the island. "She's not here right now," he said. "We had an argument. She left after it. Staying with her sister, I think. She needed space."

He said it fast, like he'd already decided the words. I stared at the side of his face. His jaw moved once. His tattooed hand tightened on the marble edge.

The sheriff wrote something down. "When was this?"

"A few days ago," Dominic said. "She'll be back."

The maid looked down at the towel in her hands. She didn't nod. She didn't shake her head either. She just breathed.

The sheriff turned to her. "And you are?"

"House help," she said quietly. "I come mornings."

"You live here?"

"No. I — I come to clean and watch them sometimes."

He wrote that down too. Then he looked around again. His eyes stopped near Dominic's right side, where his jacket hung open over his shirt. I knew what was there even though I couldn't see it from where I sat. The dark shape.

"You carry?" the sheriff asked.

Dominic paused. Just a beat. "I have it," he said. "For protection."

"Permit up to date?"

"Yeah."

The sheriff didn't argue. He just made another note. "Mind keeping it locked up with kids in the house?"

Dominic nodded. "Of course."

I squeezed the bunny harder. My sister in pink leaned against my shoulder. The one in lavender kept staring at the sheriff's badge like it might move.

The sheriff pulled out a card and set it on the island next to the fruit bowl. "Here's what happens now. I log the visit. No one's reporting a crime, but with kids here I have to follow up. I'll come back Thursday. Don't leave the county till then in case I need to reach you. And if your wife comes home, have her call me."

"Understood," Dominic said.

The maid glanced up then. Her eyes went to the card, then to the door, then back down.

The sheriff looked at her again. "Ma'am, can you show me out? I want to check the front steps where the neighbor said she heard the noise carry."

Dominic started to step forward. "I can show you."

"It's fine," the sheriff said, not unkind. "Stay with the girls."

That left a strange second where nobody moved. Then the maid folded the towel, set it down, and walked with the sheriff toward the front door. I could hear their shoes fade down the entry hall. My sisters and I stayed on the hallway floor. Dominic stayed at the island. He didn't look at us. He looked at the doorway they'd gone through.

I couldn't hear the words at first. Just low voices by the open front door, and air coming in. Then the maid's voice got a little clearer, thin and fast like she was trying not to cry and trying to talk at the same time.

"He was shouting that night," she said. "I wasn't here late, I heard it from the driveway when I left my bag. Mrs — she was crying. I didn't see — I didn't go back in. I should have."

The sheriff said something low I couldn't catch. Paper moving. Writing.

"I don't know where she is now," she said. "He says she left. That's what he says."

My throat burned. I pressed my face into the bunny's head. It smelled like my pillow.

A minute later the door closed. The lock clicked. The maid came back alone. Her face was pale and her hands were empty. She wouldn't look at Dominic.

Dominic picked up the sheriff's card off the island and turned it over once between his fingers. His tattooed hand shook just a little before he set it back down next to the fruit bowl.

"Thursday," he said, more to himself than to us. "Nobody leaves the county."

He finally looked at us in the hallway. His eyes stopped on me.