Chapter 4

I reached beneath the coffee table and removed a document envelope.

A plain brown envelope, labeled ADOPTION RECORDS.

Three things inside.

The first was the certified adoption decree from Darrow County Family Court, with a clear case number: "Adoptive parent: Nora Whitaker. Adopted child: Sophie Barrett. The parent-child relationship is established as of the date entered below."

The second was a certified copy of the placement and adoption-agency file. It proved Sophie hadn't been stolen, and that the adoption had gone through every proper legal channel.

The third was Dr. Camille Foster's preliminary child-behavioral assessment. Its opening line read: "The child displays persistent deceptive behavior, including false allegations against a caregiver. Comprehensive diagnostic evaluation is recommended."

I placed the three documents side by side.

"Mr. Reed, this is Sophie's adoption decree and the certified agency record. The adoption was legally finalized through the county court. This is the preliminary behavioral assessment completed last week."

Sophie was still crying.

I looked at her.

"Sophie, you said I locked you out on the balcony. Tell Mr. Reed which day it happened. How many hours you were out there. What you were wearing."

She stopped crying.

When she looked up at me, it was like she was seeing me for the first time.

Cole picked up the adoption decree and studied it for a long while.

Reed read Dr. Foster's assessment from beginning to end.

For a while the only sound in the living room was paper turning.

Sophie didn't say another word.

I returned the documents to the envelope, sealed it, and placed it beneath the coffee table again.

"Mr. Reed, is there anything else you need? We've got cameras on the living room, the staircase, and the kitchen. Tell me which day you want and I'll pull the footage."

Reed set down the assessment and looked at me.

He gathered the documents, stood, and said, "Ms. Whitaker, we'll stop here for today. If we need anything further, we'll be in touch."

"All right."

As Cole left, she looked back at Sophie.

Sophie's head was lowered, and her hands no longer twisted together.

They hung at her sides like two cut strings.

The door closed.

I stood in the center of the living room and looked at Sophie.

She wouldn't meet my eyes.

I crouched until we were level.

"Sophie, I recorded everything you said today. If you say any of it again, I'll play the recording back and we'll go through it line by line."

Her head snapped upward.

For the first time, what was in her eyes wasn't that flat, measuring blankness.

It was fear.

That was the first time I had ever seen fear in her eyes.

Colin didn't get home until after nine.

I sat on the couch, and the document envelope still rested open on the coffee table.

The adoption decree, assessment, and certified records covered the surface.

The living-room lights were on. Sophie was asleep behind her closed door, with the glow of a night-light beneath it.

Colin removed his shoes, glanced at the documents, and said nothing.

He went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, then sat across from me.

"How did the assessment go?"

"Fine."

"What does fine mean?"

I told him everything.

He didn't say anything for a long time.

"So she told the county investigators you stole her?"

"Yes."

"And she said you hit her, locked her outside, and denied her food?"

"Yes."

He placed the glass on the coffee table and tapped one finger against it twice.

"Nora, are you sure... none of what she said was true?"

I looked at him.

"What are you asking?"

"I'm saying, could some small part of it have happened? Maybe she didn't make it up, maybe she just got it mixed up. Little kids can't always tell what they imagined from what's real..."

"Colin."

I interrupted him.

"Colin, I told you she has a serious behavioral problem. It isn't that you don't believe the evidence. You just can't accept that the child we've raised for three years lies without a flicker of guilt, so you'd rather suspect me."

His shoulders sank.

"I didn't mean..."

"You did."

The living room stayed quiet for a long time.

I stood, walked to the desk, opened a drawer, and placed a draft petition to set aside the adoption in front of him.

"Read this."

He picked it up, read a few lines, and went white.

"Set aside the adoption? You want to send her away?"