The sentence on the paper said:
“If something happens again tonight, check the laundry room vent.”
That’s what made the deputy quietly fold the note back up and call somebody from the hallway.
My granddaughter kept insisting she fell off her bike because she thought her mother would “get in trouble again” if police stayed too long. Every answer sounded practiced. Too fast. Like she’d memorized what adults wanted to hear.
The boyfriend wouldn’t stop talking either.
People lying around kids always explain too much.
Around midnight detectives searched the apartment anyway because of the notes. The laundry room vent had been screwed shut from the outside with furniture pushed in front of it.
Inside they found blankets, juice boxes, a flashlight, and coloring books.
My granddaughter had been hiding in there at night.
Turns out my daughter’s boyfriend started locking himself inside the apartment with them whenever my daughter worked late shifts. Never enough evidence for arrests before. Just neighbors hearing yelling. Kids acting nervous. My daughter convincing herself she was “overreacting.”
The thing that still bothers me happened after CPS took statements.
My granddaughter asked the detective if she was allowed to take the vent flashlight home because “it helps when it gets scary.”
That little pink flashlight was the closest thing she had to feeling safe in her own house.