Chapter 3

The county family-services assessment was that day.

Case Supervisor Thomas Reed and Caseworker Nina Cole arrived exactly on time.

Reed was in his early forties, with an honest face and an unhurried way of speaking.

Cole was younger and responsible for the written record. Her eyes missed nothing.

Both wore dark jackets with county identification badges. The moment they entered, their gazes swept across the living room.

I had taken half a day off and cleaned the room in advance.

I mopped the floor twice, fluffed the couch cushions, and even straightened every curtain.

Fruit and tea waited on the coffee table, along with Sophie's favorite yogurt.

She wore a white floral dress, and her hair was tied into two small pigtails.

She sat perfectly upright on the couch, feet together and hands resting on her knees.

Anyone looking at her would have seen the sweetest, best-behaved little girl in the world.

"Ms. Whitaker, may we speak with your daughter first?" Reed asked gently.

"Of course."

He turned toward Sophie and softened his voice even further. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Sophie."

"How old are you?"

"I'm five."

"Can you tell me if your mom is good to you?"

Sophie looked at me.

The glance lasted less than one second.

But I recognized what she was doing.

She was deciding which answer would sound most believable and humiliate me most effectively.

She lowered her head, twisted her fingers together, and whispered, "Mom is good sometimes and bad sometimes."

Reed's eyebrows twitched. "What does she do that's bad?"

"Mom hits me." Sophie pointed to her arm. "She digs her nails into me. It hurts, and she says I can't tell anyone."

Cole's pen stopped, and she looked up at me.

I said nothing.

It wasn't time yet.

"Mom locks me outside on the balcony and won't let me come in. It's really cold."

Her voice began trembling with exactly the right amount of fear.

"She doesn't give me enough food either. Sometimes I'm too hungry to sleep."

Her voice rose gradually, moving from timid to tearful.

Tears fell in perfect measure, enough to make anyone ache for her.

Reed's expression changed.

When he looked at me again, something had shifted.

Cole set down her pen, picked up her tea, and drank without looking at me.

Sophie kept going.

"She isn't my real mother."

The room went dead still.

"She stole me from someone else."

The air froze.

Reed turned and stared directly at me.

Cole's lips parted as though she wanted to speak, but she stopped herself.

The tears kept coming, and her voice got smaller and more pitiful with every word. "I heard her talking on the phone... She said she didn't give birth to me. She said she brought me home from somewhere... I want to find my real mommy."

She cried through the final words.

A five-year-old was asking to find her real mother.

If this had been my first time hearing it, I'd have believed her too.

But it wasn't my first time.

In my previous life, those words pushed me into an abyss.

This time, I had brought weapons of my own.