Chapter 4: In Writing

I took out my phone and photographed all four pages of the form.

The shutter sound was the only noise in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Dad asked.

"Making copies."

I laid the pages flat and photographed my forged signature again, closer.

Regina set down the dish towel.

"Cedric, nobody is going to use this against you."

"Someone already did. Last Tuesday."

I turned to Dad.

"You worked in the county records office for thirty-one years. You know exactly what this is."

Dad's face stayed hard, but his hand went to the folder.

"Don't use that word in this house."

"Forgery," I said. "On a state form. With my name on it."

Mom gripped the back of her chair.

"Cedric, you wouldn't call the police on your own father."

"I haven't called anyone. I'm telling you what I could do."

I folded the four pages in half and put them in my jacket.

Dad reached for my sleeve.

I stepped out of his way.

"You can have these back when you've signed something for me."

"Signed what?"

"Colby and Jasper stay out of my sight, and out of Maisie's. No visits, no school gates, no birthday parties, no calls to her through any of you."

Regina made a small sound.

"That's not fair to Jasper. He's seven."

"He's seven, and he put his hand on a four-year-old. Where was the fairness when she was bleeding on your mother's floor?"

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