He Gave Our Family Speech With His Ex, So I Took the Mic novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Locked Out

Holly finds Gwen cooking in her cardigan inside the changed-lock house, the police can only get June's things out, and a custody petition citing her public breakdown is taped to the door.

June didn't say anything until we turned onto our street.

"Is Daddy mad?" she asked from the back seat.

"Not at you," I said. "Never at you."

"Are you mad?"

"A little," I said. "I'll be fine by dinner."

She nodded and hugged her backpack tighter.

It was bulging, though she'd only packed her crayons and a juice box that morning.

I thought it was snacks.

The locksmith's van was pulling out of our driveway as we pulled in.

Derek's car was parked in front of the garage.

The kitchen light was on, and through the window over the sink I could see a woman at my stove.

She was stirring a pot with my wooden spoon.

She was wearing my gray cardigan, the one that lived on the hook by the back door.

Gwen.

At the kitchen island, the little boy was coloring with June's markers.

I turned off the engine.

"Stay in the car, baby," I said. "Keep your seat belt on."

I walked up to my own front door and tried my key.

It wouldn't go in.

I knocked.

Gwen opened it as far as the chain allowed, her face soft and worried.

"Holly," she said. "I'm so sorry about all this. I made soup. There's plenty, if June's hungry."

"That's my cardigan," I said.

"It was cold in here," she said, kindly. "He asked me to stay with Eli until things calmed down."

"Get Derek."

"He's upstairs. He doesn't want to upset you."

"He changed the locks on my house."

"Oh, honey, it's his house," she said gently. "Everyone knows that."

She closed the door in my face, so politely I almost thanked her.

I stood on the porch with my keys in my fist.

Then I called the police.

Two officers arrived in twelve minutes, a tall one and a young one with a notepad.

I showed them my license, June's birth certificate and a photo of June in my phone.

The tall officer listened to the whole thing and then looked at the deed on his own phone.

"Ma'am," he said, "the house is titled to your husband alone. I can't make him let you in."

"My daughter lives here."

"I know," he said, and he sounded sorry. "What I can do is get her belongings out for you. Ten minutes, with us standing here."

He knocked on the door and said who he was.

The chain slid off.

Derek stepped into the doorway in his shirtsleeves, tired and reasonable.

"Officers," he said. "Thank you for coming. I don't want any trouble. My wife had a very public episode this morning, and I'm worried about the child."

"I'm standing right here, Derek," I said.

"Holly, please," he said, in the voice he used with clients. "Take what's June's. Leave the rest."

"My mother's ring is in the top drawer of the bedroom."

"Then you should have thought of that before you took a microphone out of my hand."

The young officer shifted his feet.

"Sir, the ring is hers," he said.

"I'll look for it," Derek said, and shut the door.

It stayed shut for a long minute.

Then it opened, and he held out a black trash bag.

Inside were June's pajamas, three shirts, two pairs of leggings and her blue rabbit.

No shoes. No coat. No school things.

"The ring?" I asked.

"I couldn't find it."

"It was in the top drawer."

"Then it's gone," he said, and looked past me at the car, where June was watching through the window.

Something crossed his face.

It was fast, and it wasn't anger.

If I had to name it now, I'd say it was a warning.

June pressed her forehead against the glass.

I took the bag, and I did not say a word that I could have been arrested for.

The officers walked me back to the car.

"Get yourself a lawyer tonight," the tall one said quietly. "And keep that video."

"What video?"

"Somebody always has one."

I had started the engine when I heard the sound of tape.

I turned.

Derek stood on the porch, pressing a sheet of paper flat against my front door with both hands.

He smoothed it down, nodded once at nobody, and went inside.

The headlights lit the top line in black letters.

EMERGENCY PETITION FOR TEMPORARY CUSTODY.

Under it, in smaller type, was the reason: "Respondent's public breakdown at a school function."

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