Chapter 3 - The First Call for Help
Peter dialed 911 with one hand while keeping the other on Drew’s shoulder.
“My nephew and niece just showed up at my house,” he told the operator, forcing his voice to stay steady. “The boy’s leg looks badly injured. The little girl looks severely underfed. They said their stepmother locked them downstairs.”
The operator asked questions.
Peter answered.
Address.
Ages.
Condition.
Immediate danger.
While he spoke, Drew kept one arm wrapped around Lily, watching every movement Peter made.
Not like a child watching an uncle.
Like a child watching a room for threats.
Peter hated himself then.
Not because he had done this.
Because he had not seen it sooner.
He thought of all the times he had stood on Reena’s porch holding gifts and been told the kids were napping.
All the times he had accepted her tight smile.
All the times he had driven away telling himself not to make trouble.
Now Drew had crossed seven blocks with an injured leg and a hungry sister because trouble had already been living inside that house.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Drew flinched.
Peter squeezed his hand.
“That sound means help is coming.”
“Will they take Lily away?”
“No,” Peter said. “Not from safety.”
The paramedics arrived first.
Then police.
A woman with gray-streaked hair knelt beside Drew, speaking softly while she stabilized his leg. Another paramedic checked Lily’s pulse and temperature while Lily clung to Peter’s sleeve.
A police officer stepped inside and looked at the children.
His expression changed.
Professional.
Controlled.
Angry in the way good people get when they cannot afford to show all of it.
Peter turned to him.
“My brother trusted her with his kids.”
May you like
The officer nodded once.
“Then we’re going to find out exactly what she did with that trust.”
