“Officer, look at the dash!” I pointed frantically. “That’s a parking receipt! Check the timestamp! I guarantee you she’s been parked here for over an hour!”
The officer turned and shone his flashlight through the intact front windshield. He peered closely at the small piece of paper. He straightened up, his face unreadable, and jotted something in his notebook. He didn't confirm the time to me.
David’s jaw tightened slightly, a microscopic crack in his confident facade, but he quickly recovered. “She probably broke in just to plant that, or she’s misreading it in her hysterical state.”
I looked down at Emma. She was staring at her father, her small hands balled into tight fists inside her jacket pockets. She wasn't crying anymore. She looked terrified, but beneath the fear, there was something else. A dark, quiet understanding.
“Emma,” I whispered, crouching down to her eye level, ignoring the police officer standing right beside us. “Why did you draw the picture of the silver car two days ago? Before we even came here today. Why did you say the baby was crying?”
Emma bit her lip, glancing nervously up at David, who was staring intently at her.
“I didn't draw it,” Emma whispered, her voice trembling. “I remembered it.”
“Remembered what, sweetie?”
“From last weekend,” she said softly. “When I stayed with Daddy. Chloe did it then, too. She went into the nail place. She told me to stay in the car and watch Leo. She locked the doors. It was so hot, Mommy. Leo cried until he threw up, and Daddy told me if I told you, you would go to jail for being a liar.”
My breath stopped completely. The air in my lungs turned to ice.
It wasn't a random coincidence. Emma hadn't randomly spotted the baby today. She knew this was Chloe’s routine. She knew the baby was in danger because she had lived through the terror of it herself just days ago. When she saw the silver car today with the daisy sticker, she remembered the heat. She remembered the screaming. And when she saw the car parked, she knew Leo was inside, suffocating, while her stepmother shopped.
I stood up slowly, a cold, unshakeable rage replacing every ounce of panic in my body. I looked directly into David’s eyes. He knew. He absolutely knew what his wife was doing, and he was using it to manipulate a custody battle.
“You knew,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, steady whisper that carried perfectly across the pavement. “You covered it up.”
David scoffed, rolling his eyes at the officer. “She’s delusional. Officer, I want to press charges for destruction of property and attempted kidnapping.”
The officer closed his notebook. He looked at me, his expression hardening.
“Ma’am, given the history of custody disputes and the violent nature of the property damage, I’m going to have to ask you to place your hands behind your back.”
“What?” I gasped, stepping away. “No! I didn't break the window, my daughter did it to save the baby! I didn't lay a finger on that car!”
The officer unclipped a pair of metal handcuffs from his belt. The sound of the ratchets clicking echoed loudly.
“We’ll review the mall security footage to determine exactly who threw the brick, Ms. Miller,” the officer said grimly. “But until then, I need you to step into the cruiser. You’re being detained for questioning regarding the attempted kidnapping of a minor.”
I looked wildly at David. He wasn't looking at me. He was smirking, a tiny, triumphant smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
As the cold metal cuffed around my wrists, locking me into a nightmare I couldn't wake up from, Emma began to scream for me, reaching her small hands out as another officer pulled her gently away.
CHAPTER 3