Chapter 12: The Family Meeting

Tom had called me at midnight and played the video twice over the phone before I understood it.

I did not sleep.

At three on Sunday afternoon, I walked up the path to the yellow door with my phone in my pocket and a folder under my arm.

Tom's truck was parked down the street, with its engine off and his window rolled down.

Evan let me in.

The living room was full.

Mark sat on the sofa in a grey sweater, and Diane beside him in cream.

Across from them, a woman in a navy blazer perched on a dining chair with a tablet on her knee.

Her lanyard said Maple Court Residence.

Sophie sat in the big armchair, with a blanket over her legs and her hand on her belly.

There was one empty seat left, a low footstool beside the door.

"Helen," Mark said gently. "Thank you for coming. This is only a conversation."

"It's nice to meet you," the woman from Maple Court said to me.

"And you," I said, and stayed standing.

"We just want you to feel supported," Diane said. "Mark has some concerns about your safety, and we've brought some photographs."

She handed the woman her phone.

The woman swiped through it, and her eyebrows went up.

"There's a scorched towel on a hot plate," she said. "And a cot in what looks like an unheated barn. Is that accurate, Mrs. Wendt?"

"Those were taken last night," I said. "At eleven."

"By whom?"

"By Diane."

"Helen," Mark said, kindly. "Be careful."

"Diane, tell her when you took them."

Diane smiled.

"Mark found it this morning, honey. I came by and photographed it for the file."

"That's a lie," I said, "but I'd rather someone else said so."

I took out my phone, and I sent a single text to Tom.