Chapter 13: Hold This for Me

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to run across the lawn and tear the paper out of the officer's hand.

Poppy was watching my face, and she would learn from it what kind of day this was.

So I did not scream.

I knelt on the wet grass in front of her and took both her hands.

"Poppy, look at me."

"Are we in trouble?"

"No, baby. Nobody is in trouble. You're going for a ride with this lady, and I'm coming to get you very soon."

"Can you come in the car?"

"Not this time."

Her chin shook.

I pressed Poppy's drawing into her hands.

"Hold this for me," I said. "It's the most important thing I own. Don't let anyone take it."

She hugged the paper to her chest.

"Okay, Mommy."

The woman with the clipboard led her down the porch steps by one hand.

Poppy looked back at me the whole way to the car.

The door shut, and the car pulled out of the drive.

Eleven cameras filmed it.

Nobody said a word, and nobody asked a question.

The reporter in the blue coat was crying.

I stayed on my knees until the taillights were gone.

Then I stood, because my legs worked, and walked to Ansel's truck.

He held the passenger door open.

"Courthouse," he said. It was not a question.

"Courthouse."

My lawyer was waiting on the steps in a coat thrown over pajamas.

She had been up since six, and she had already found the Saturday duty judge.

"She'll hear us in chambers," she said. "Ten minutes. Bring the lab report."

Behind us, a black sedan stopped at the curb.

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