her hands on the table, pushing herself to her feet. “That settles it, then. Thirty minutes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Rose and Andrew sandwich me at the dining room table. Two clean-cut detectives in suits from the Child Abuse Unit sit across from us with notepads and mugs of coffee.
The sandy blond one, Detective Hall, picks up his pen. “We know you spoke with CPS the other day and we’re sorry to put you through this again. We have separate investigations because she’s making sure you’re safe while we will pursue criminal charges against your parents. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice cracking. I cradle my mug of Earl Grey between my hands. Andrew’s arm rests on my shoulders and his hand squeezes my arm for reassurance. My anxiety is lower than when I met Gillian and Deputy Cohen. At least I was expecting the detectives.
Detective Olivera, dark-skinned with black hair, starts with questions about the physical abuse, much like Gillian’s, but he allows me to tell my story freely without using close-ended questions to box me in. Next, Detective Hall asks Rose and Andrew to relate what they witnessed the day I came to live with them. We take a short break and then I recount the rapes, the pregnancy, and the abortion.
Detective Olivera ends with, “We’ll call if we have any other questions.”
“Sara,” Detective Hall adds, “we interview a lot of kids just like you. I want you to know you’re very brave for doing this.”
I stare at him because I never intended to divulge any of the abuse. The secrets were supposed to stay locked in my vault for the rest of my life. That’s not brave. “If I had a choice, Detective Hall, I wouldn’t have done this at all.”
After lunch, I meet with Sam and tell her about the CPS visit, revealing the last of my secrets to Jason, and this morning’s interview with the detectives.
“What does brave mean to you?” she asks.
“I choose to do the right thing.”
“And you did that,” she points out.
“How?” I interlace my fingers and let my thumbs play with each other. “I never meant to tell anyone, not even you.”
“You stood up to your father. You chose to stay with the Jerichos. You met with the CPS worker and the detectives when you could have refused. You answered their questions even though you were nervous at first. It doesn’t matter if you meant to or not. When faced with the choices, you did the right thing. You. Are. Brave.”
It still doesn’t feel right.
Andrew and Rose rise from their seats in the waiting room when I exit Sam’s office.
“Sam, if you have a minute,” Andrew says.
“Sure. Do you want to come in?” She opens the door wider.
“No. We wanted to tell you both,” his eyes flicker to me, “that Gillian Barrow called about ten minutes ago. We have a court date Tuesday morning.”
Her forehead creases with concern. “Did she say why?”
“She’s making her recommendations to the judge. That’s all she would say.”
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“What does it mean?” I ask.
“She’s going to ask for a court order for something, but I don’t know what.”
“Tuesday’s my birthday,” I say, deflated.
Rose runs her hand across my back. “We’ll figure it out, sweetie.”
“I need to tell Arissa whether I’m ready or not,” I say to Andrew and Rose.
Sam smiles bright. “I told you you’re brave.”
Jason drives Arissa and Damian home from school.
“Why aren’t you at practice?” I ask.
“Coach suspended me from practice and the playoffs.”
“That’s hardly fair!”
“It’s okay, Parker. I told him what was going on without giving details. He did it so I could be here for you. I missed you today,” he whispers, picking me up in a bear hug.
“I missed you too.”
“How did it go?” He sets me on my feet.
“Same as the other day.” I peek around for Arissa and Damian.
“They went to the TV room.”
I lead him out back. “The social worker called while I was with Sam. We have court next Tuesday.”
He settles into a deck chair and tugs me onto his lap. “Your parents are going to trial already?” he asks, shocked.
“No. This is for something else. We don’t know what.” I rest my arm on his shoulder.
His arms slip around me, pulling me close. “Do you want me to go?”
“No, you can’t miss school.”
“My parents will write me a note.”
I shake my head. “If Arissa knows you’re going, she’ll demand to go.”
Our attention shifts to abrupt whooshing of the sliding door opening.