The Littlest Prosecutor novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Exhibit A

Aunt Josephine finds old marks under the new one, and by morning Birdie's case file is gone.

Daddy carried me upstairs that night.

He didn't say anything on the stairs.

He put me on my bed and sat on the edge of it, and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Bird," he said. "Please. Faye is trying so hard."

I looked at the ceiling.

"Just be nice to her. For me. Can you do that?"

I did not answer him.

My words had gone back into my throat, even though Faye was not in the room.

Daddy waited a long time.

Then he kissed my forehead, and he left, and he left the door open a crack, like he always did.

I lay still and listened to the grown-ups go home downstairs.

Car doors slammed.

Then somebody knocked softly on my door, two short knocks and one long one.

"Birdie?" Aunt Josephine whispered. "It's Aunt Jo. Can I come in?"

I nodded in the dark, and she saw me nod, and she came in.

She was the only doctor in a family of lawyers.

She carried a canvas bag, and she always smelled like clean laundry and hand soap.

"I'm not here for a trial," she said. "I'm here to look at your hand. That's all."

She took me into the bathroom and turned on the bright light.

She held my right hand in both of hers and turned it over.

She did not say anything for a long time.

"Four crescents," she said at last. "Each one the shape of a fingernail."

"That's what I said," I whispered.

"I know. I believe you."

She took a small camera out of her bag and took pictures with a ruler laid next to my skin.

"Birdie, can I see your arms?"

I pushed up my sleeves.

On the inside of my left arm there was a faded yellow mark, and another near my elbow, and another one that was nearly gone.

Aunt Jo's mouth went flat.

"How old is this one?"

"Eleven days," I said. "It was a Tuesday. She pulled me out of the car."

"And this?"

"The twelfth of September. The pantry."

Aunt Jo stared at me.

"You remember the date?"

"I wrote it down," I said. "I have a file."

I took her back to my room and knelt down next to my bed.

I pulled up a corner of the mattress and slid out my case file.

It was a big green folder with a rabbit sticker on it.

Inside were two things.

The first was a calendar from the refrigerator, the kind with a picture of a lighthouse on the front.

Every red sticker on the calendar was a bad day.

There were fourteen red stickers since June.

The second thing was a stack of drawings.

I couldn't write long words yet, so I drew each day instead.

A stick lady with a pointy hand.

A little girl locked in a pantry.

A candy on a floor.

Under every picture was the date in careful numbers.

Aunt Jo turned the pages slowly.

"Birdie," she said. "This is evidence."

"I know," I said. "I told Daddy."

"What did he say?"

"He said be nice to Faye."

Aunt Jo closed her eyes for a second.

When she opened them, she was looking at the calendar again.

She pointed to a few days that had a little black dot in the corner instead of a sticker.

"What are these?"

I took the folder and held it tight against my chest.

"That's something else," I said. "It's not ready yet."

She studied me.

I couldn't tell whether she was worried or proud.

"All right," she said. "Then I'll wait until it's ready."

She put one hand on top of my head.

"I'm a doctor, and I'm a witness now. Whatever happens, you tell me. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And keep this where she can't find it."

"It's under the mattress."

"Good girl."

She tucked me in and turned off the light.

I held my stuffed rabbit and thought about the button in the soap dish, and I fell asleep feeling I was winning.

In the morning I knelt down and lifted the corner of the mattress.

The green folder was gone.

So was every red sticker, every drawing and every date.

And on my pillow, where my head had just been, lay a single white rabbit candy.

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