Chapter 5
The interview room was exactly what Detective Marquez had promised.
Walls painted soft yellow. A large, overstuffed couch with throw pillows shaped like animals. Bookshelves filled with picture books and board games. A basket of stuffed animals in the corner. A one-way mirror along one wall—CPS workers and a forensic psychologist would be watching from the other side, taking notes, making sure everything was done by the book.
Emma sat on the couch, a stuffed rabbit tucked under one arm.
Daniel sat beside her.
Detective Marquez sat across from them in a comfortable armchair, notebook open but not threatening. The child psychologist—Dr. Chen—sat in the corner, quiet and unobtrusive.
“Emma,” Dr. Chen said gently. “We’re going to talk about some things that might be hard. And that’s okay. If at any point you want to stop, or take a break, or color a picture instead, you just say the word. No one is going to make you talk about anything you don’t want to. Understand?”
Emma nodded.
She was clutching the rabbit so tight her knuckles were white.
“Good,” Dr. Chen said. “Can you start by telling us what a typical day is like at your house? When do you wake up? What do you eat for breakfast? What do you do all day?”
Emma relaxed a little.
This was safe territory.
“We wake up at seven,” she said. “Daddy makes us oatmeal. Sometimes with raisins. Then we do schoolwork at the kitchen table.”
“You don’t go to regular school?” Detective Marquez asked carefully.
Emma shook her head.
“Daddy says regular school is full of germs. And bad influences. He teaches us at home. Reading, and math, and science. We’re very advanced. He tells everyone that.”
“Does he ever let you leave the house?” Marquez asked.
“Sometimes,” Emma said. “To go to the library. Or the grocery store. But we have to hold his hand the whole time. And we’re not allowed to talk to anyone. Not the cashier, not the other kids, not the librarian. If we talk to anyone, we get a quiet day when we get home.”
She said it matter-of-factly.
Like this was normal.
Like all dads did this.
“Emma,” Dr. Chen said. “When you say ‘quiet day,’ can you tell us exactly what that means? What happens?”
Emma’s grip on the rabbit tightened.
“Daddy gets the medicine out,” she said. “The little cups with the lines. Or sometimes the syringe. He says it will help us be calm. That good girls are calm girls. We drink it, and then we get sleepy. We sleep on the couch for a long time. Sometimes the whole day. When we wake up, it’s dark outside. And Daddy says we were very good.”
“How often do these quiet days happen?” Marquez asked.
Emma shrugged.
“Once a week? Sometimes more. When Daddy has a lot of work. Or when we ask too many questions. Or when we fight over toys. Or when we cry too loud. He says the neighbors might hear. That we can’t give anyone a reason to come around asking questions.”
Daniel’s pen paused over his notebook.
He looked up.
“Emma,” he said. “Did your dad ever say what would happen if someone did come around asking questions?”
Emma nodded slowly.
“He said if anyone found out about the quiet days, they would take us away forever,” she whispered. “That we would be split up. That we would never see each other again. That we would go to a bad place with bad people who would hurt us worse than he ever could. He said no one would ever believe us because he’s a doctor and we’re just kids. That everyone always believes the doctor.”
The room was silent for a moment.
Marquez’s jaw was tight. Dr. Chen was making rapid notes. Behind the one-way mirror, Daniel knew the CPS workers were hearing every word.
This was the pattern.
Isolation. Control. Fear.
Michael Carter had systematically cut these girls off from the outside world. Had convinced them they had no one to turn to. Had made himself judge, jury, and executioner in their small, four-walled prison.
And he’d almost gotten away with it.
If Emma hadn’t been brave enough to run.
If she hadn’t hidden that syringe in her sneaker.
If she hadn’t remembered where the police station was.
They would still be there.
Olivia would be dead by morning.
And Michael Carter would have told everyone she’d had a seizure. A sudden, tragic medical event. The kind that happens sometimes, even to the healthiest children. He would have cried at the funeral. He would have gotten sympathy cards from his colleagues. He would have prescribed himself more pills to “cope with his grief.”
And life would have gone on.
“Emma,” Marquez said, her voice softer now. “We need to talk about your mom. Can you tell us about her?”
Emma’s face crumpled.
This was the hard part.
“Her name is Sarah,” she said. “She’s pretty. She used to read us bedtime stories every night. She made the best chocolate chip cookies in the whole world. She left last year. On my birthday. We had cake and everything. After we went to sleep, she packed her bags and drove away. She didn’t even say goodbye.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“Daddy says she didn’t love us anymore,” Emma whispered. “That she found a new family and forgot all about us. That’s why he has to be extra strict now. Because it’s just the three of us against the world. Because no one else cares if we live or die.”
Dr. Chen leaned forward.
“Emma,” she said. “Did your dad ever hurt your mom? Before she left?”
Emma hesitated.
She looked at Daniel.
He gave her a small, encouraging nod.
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “They would yell at each other late at night, after we were supposed to be asleep. Once I heard a loud noise, like something breaking. The next morning, Mom had a black eye. She said she walked into a door. But I was seven. I knew doors didn’t punch people in the face. And once—once I saw Daddy grab her arm really hard. She cried. She said she was going to call the police. Daddy laughed. He said who would believe her? He was the doctor. He was the respected one. He would tell everyone she was crazy. That she was an unfit mother. That he would take the girls and she would never see them again.”
Emma wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“That’s why she left,” she said suddenly, like she was realizing it for the first time. “That’s why she didn’t take us. She was scared. Scared he would follow her. Scared he would hurt us worse if she tried. Oh my god. She didn’t leave because she didn’t love us. She left because she was scared.”
The realization hit her hard.
She burst into tears.
Daniel pulled her close.
He held her while she cried, while years of fear and confusion and guilt poured out of her. All the lies Michael had told her—about her mother, about the world, about herself—were unraveling. And the truth was painful, but it was also freeing.
Her mom hadn’t stopped loving her.
She’d been trapped.
Just like them.
When Emma had cried herself out, Marquez closed her notebook.
“Thank you, Emma,” she said. “You’ve been so brave. More brave than most adults I know. We’re going to find your mom. We’re going to tell her what happened. And we’re going to give her a chance to explain. Whatever happens, you’re not alone anymore. You have all of us now. And we’re not going anywhere.”
They left the interview room an hour later.
Lorraine Torres was waiting outside, her phone pressed to her ear. She nodded at them as they approached, then finished her call and hung up.
“Good news and bad news,” she said. “Good news: we tracked down Sarah Carter. She’s living in Indianapolis. Working two jobs—waitressing at night, cleaning offices during the day. We spoke to her landlord, to her boss, to her neighbors. By all accounts, she’s clean, sober, hardworking. No criminal record. No history of drugs or violence. She’s been paying child support every month, even though Michael has been refusing to cash the checks.”
She paused.
“Bad news: when we called her and told her what happened, she collapsed. Literally collapsed. Her roommate had to pick her up off the floor. She’s beside herself with guilt. She says she’s been trying to get a lawyer for a year to fight for custody, but she couldn’t afford it. She’s getting in her car right now. She’ll be here by tomorrow morning. Just in time for the custody hearing.”
Daniel let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
Their mom was coming.
“That’s not all,” Lorraine continued. “Detective Marquez—your search warrant for the Carter house was just signed by the judge. We’re executing it in an hour. Forensics team is already en route. We’re going to tear that place apart. Every cabinet, every drawer, every computer file. If Michael Carter has been doing this for months, there will be evidence. There always is.”
Marquez pulled her car keys from her pocket.
“Reed,” she said. “You coming? You know the case better than anyone. Your eyes might catch something we miss.”
Daniel looked at Emma.
She was leaning against the wall, exhausted, the stuffed rabbit still in her arms.
“Go,” Emma said quietly. “I’ll be okay. The nice nurses are going to bring me and Olivia ice cream. Rainbow sprinkles. And Lorraine is going to stay here with us. Right, Lorraine?”
“Right,” Lorraine said, smiling. “Rainbow sprinkles on me. Whatever you want.”
Daniel knelt in front of her.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Emma nodded.
“You have to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else,” she said. “You have to find all the medicine. All the secrets. So no other little girls have to hide syringes in their shoes.”
She held out her fist.
Daniel bumped it with his own.
“Deal,” he said.
He stood up.
“Let’s go,” he told Marquez.
They walked out of the hospital together.
The sun was setting now, painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple. The rain had stopped. The air smelled clean. Fresh.
Daniel climbed into Marquez’s unmarked sedan.
She turned the key in the ignition.
“Ready to see what the good doctor has been hiding?” she asked.
Daniel strapped on his seatbelt.
“Born ready,” he said.
They pulled out of the parking lot.
May you like
The Carter house was twenty minutes away.
And whatever they found there was going to change everything.
