Chapter 6 - A Signature from Duluth
My sister Nora had a habit of photographing everything.
She photographed restaurant menus before ordering, sunsets through dirty windshields, and the ridiculous mugs she collected from every city she visited.
For once, her habit might save me.
When I told her the date on the medical release, she checked her photo library and found us smiling in front of Lake Superior.
Chloe stood between us with a paper cup of hot chocolate, and I held a souvenir bag beneath my arm.
The photograph was location-stamped, time-stamped, and backed up to an account Lucas couldn't access.
Nora also found the hotel receipt showing I'd checked in the previous night.
I forwarded the original records to Denise.
For the first time since the hospital, I felt something stronger than fear.
I felt certain of a fact Lucas couldn't talk away.
I had not signed that document on the date printed across its top.
Denise cautioned me that the date discrepancy could have innocent or dishonest explanations and that a document examiner might be needed.
But it was worth preserving.
Meanwhile, Chloe attended her appointment with the child advocacy team.
The staff explained the process beforehand and asked me to remain available in a separate room.
I wasn't allowed to watch or coach the interview.
For the first few minutes, I sat with my hands folded and tried not to imagine what she might say.
Then I walked to the vending machine, purchased a bottle of water I couldn't swallow, and returned to the same chair.
Marisol sat beside me.
“You can't protect her by knowing every word,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
I didn't know.
I wanted to know everything, because not knowing was how I believed I had failed.
When Chloe emerged, she looked tired, but she reached for my hand.
“Can we get pancakes now?”
“We can.”
I didn't ask what she'd discussed.
The interviewer spoke with the investigative team through the designated process, and Chloe's care team focused on her comfort and treatment.
Later, Detective Reed told Denise that the interview contained information significant to the investigation.
She would not provide me with sensational details, and I didn't ask her to.
I already knew enough to understand why Chloe deserved privacy.
That evening, Lucas sent an email to my old work address.
It was titled “A reasonable solution.”
He offered to pay for a short-term apartment if I agreed to return Chloe to our home and withdraw my requests for protective court orders.
He said his lawyers would handle the paperwork.
He said we could discuss marriage counseling once I was “thinking clearly.”
Then came a sentence that exposed the offer for what it was.
“If you continue embarrassing the family, I will have no choice but to disclose your medical history.”
I read it twice.
My medical history consisted of routine checkups and counseling after a difficult postpartum year.
Lucas had encouraged that counseling.
He had driven me to the first appointment and told me he was proud I was getting support.
Now he was turning it into ammunition.
I forwarded the email to Denise.
Nora called a minute later, angry enough that she could barely form sentences.
“Tell me you aren't thinking of going back.”
“I'm not.”
“Good.”
Then her voice softened.
“You and Chloe can have every room in my house if you need it.”
I thanked her but explained why our location needed to remain limited.
She accepted that without argument.
It was the first time in days an adult had listened to me without making me defend my decisions.
Before bed, Chloe asked if Nora still had the purple blanket in her guest room.
I said she did.
Chloe smiled and closed her eyes.
My phone buzzed with a message from an unfamiliar number.
It contained a photograph of the very same purple blanket on Nora's guest bed.
Beneath it were five words.
May you like
“Your sister isn't safe either.”
