Chapter 3: The Laundry Room Door
Daniel didn't pick Lucas up. He just stood with his hand hovering near his son's back, like he was afraid to touch him and make it worse.
Victoria was already at the front door when we reached the house. She'd come out onto the brick steps in a cream sweater and slacks, her hair smooth, a small smile fixed in place. My suitcase rattled behind me, the metal corners catching the late sun.
"Daniel, you're home early," she said, calm, almost relieved. "The boys got confused. I told Emily we needed to sort out the bracelet before she left, and they must have panicked."
I stopped at the bottom of the steps. My left hand still had the yellow glove on. Lucas hadn't let go of it, and Milo had come out from behind Victoria's legs and taken hold of the hem of my jumpsuit.
"We should go inside," Daniel said. His voice was low. "All of us."
Victoria stepped back to let us pass. She didn't look at me. The entry was cool and smelled like the citrus cleaner I'd used that morning. My suitcase stayed by the door where Daniel had set it. I didn't take the glove off. I wasn't sure what I was allowed to touch anymore.
In the living room, Victoria perched on the arm of the sofa. "They're overtired. Daniel, honey, they were playing rough while I was on a call. You know how they get."
Lucas tugged at my glove. "No," he whispered. He looked up at Daniel, then at me. "We weren't playing. Show him."
I hesitated. I could feel Victoria's eyes on me. But Daniel was watching me too, and his expression wasn't asking me to defend myself. It was asking me to show him what his sons were trying to show him.
"The laundry room," I said quietly. "They said Victoria told them to stay in there."
Daniel frowned. "The laundry room? Why?"
I led him down the hall past the kitchen. The door was white with a silver handle and a small sliding lock mounted high, on the outside. The kind that should never be on a child's room. Inside, the room was narrow, warm from the dryer. On the tile floor someone had laid two folded blankets and a small plastic cup with a little water still in it. A nightlight was plugged in behind the hamper, even though it was afternoon.
Daniel stopped in the doorway. He didn't say anything at first. He just breathed in through his nose and put his hand on the door frame. I saw his knuckles go white.
He crouched and touched the blanket. It was still warm from where they'd sat. He looked at the lock, then back at the cup.
"Who put this lock on?" he asked.
Victoria had followed us and stood in the hall. Her smile was thinner now. "It was already there when we moved in. For safety. I didn't lock it, Daniel. I closed the door so they wouldn't run around while I was looking for your mother's bracelet."
Milo had come to the doorway and stood pressed against my leg. Lucas stayed just inside, his shoulder against the dryer.
I knelt so I was level with Lucas, and I didn't touch his face. I asked, "Can I look, sweetheart? Just so your dad can see?"
He nodded. In the natural light from the small window above the washer, I could see the marks clearly. On his cheek, a faint reddish crescent, not a scratch, not a scrape with broken skin. On his forearm, a broader, mottled pink mark that wrapped partway around. I looked carefully, the way I'd been told to as a caregiver, without pressing.
"They're not fresh scrapes," I said softly, mostly to Daniel. "They're pressure marks. Like someone held on too tight."
Daniel leaned closer, his eyes moving over his son's face. Lucas didn't cry now. He just breathed, small and fast, and let us look. Milo pushed his own sleeve up and showed a lighter version of the same on his wrist. He didn't say when it happened. He didn't have to.
Daniel stood abruptly. "Milo, what did Miss Victoria say to you? Tell me exactly."
Milo looked at Lucas, then buried his face for a second against my side. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear it.
"She said she would send us away forever."
The exact words, again, word for word. Victoria made a small sound in the hallway.
"That's enough," she said. "He's repeating what Emily told him to say."
I kept my hands on the boys' backs, light, and didn't answer her. Daniel looked at me, then at Victoria, and something in his jaw shifted.
"I need to talk to Victoria alone," he said to me. "Can you stay with them in the living room? Just for a few minutes."
I nodded. I took both boys' hands and walked them back to the sofa. Lucas climbed up and sat with his knees tucked under him, still holding my yellow glove. Milo sat so close our shoulders touched. In the kitchen, I could hear Daniel and Victoria's voices, low and sharp, but not the words at first. Then Daniel's voice rose just enough to carry.
"—locked from the outside, Victoria. And those marks—"
"You're choosing her word over mine?" Victoria said, louder, her calm cracking. "She planted this. She wants her job. She told them to say that bracelet wasn't her fault. It's rough play, Daniel. You know how boys are."
There was a pause. A drawer opened and closed. When Daniel came back into the living room, his face was pale. He was holding a set of keys with a leather fob — the house keys, the gate key, the laundry room key.
He set them on the coffee table, not giving them to me, just taking them from her.
"You're going to stay in the guest room tonight," he told Victoria, who stood in the kitchen doorway with her arms crossed. "I'm keeping these until we figure out what happened. No one is going anywhere right now."
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Victoria stared at the keys, then at me. "This is absurd," she said, but she didn't reach for them.
My suitcase was still by the front door, exactly where we'd left it. I hadn't decided whether I was staying or leaving, and for the moment, neither had Daniel. The boys were breathing easier, but they hadn't let go.
