The officer saw it too.
“Ma’am, I need you to stay here.”
Evelyn’s composure cracked.
“This is my daughter’s house.”
“That doesn’t change what I just said.”
I climbed into the ambulance with Lily.
For the first time in my life, I left Evelyn behind without waiting for Taylor to explain her.
At the hospital, doctors treated Lily for mild-to-moderate hypothermia and monitored her heart rhythm. They told me we had been lucky. Another stretch of time in the freezer could have been much worse.
Lucky.
I hated the word.
A child-protection investigator arrived before midnight. So did a detective trained in interviewing children. They asked me not to question Lily repeatedly about what happened.
“Let her tell trained people in a safe setting,” the investigator said. “Your job tonight is to be Dad.”
I needed that instruction.
Because every part of me wanted answers immediately.
How many times?
How long?
What else?
Did Taylor know?
Instead, I sat beside Lily’s bed and held her hand while she slept.
Taylor arrived at two in the morning.
Her face was white.
She rushed toward the bed.
“What happened?”
I stood.
“Your mother put Lily in the freezer.”
Taylor stopped.
Not confusion.
Not disbelief.
Fear.
I saw it.
