The Perfect Child(97)

Shortly after ten, there was a knock on the door. We all froze. It had to be the police. No one visited us this late. We didn’t speak for thirty minutes just to make sure they were gone. It wasn’t long until Piper’s source emailed her the affidavit for my arrest.

“Aren’t you going to lose your job for that?” I asked, pointing to the report opening on her screen. We’d been so wrapped up in my legal drama that we hadn’t even talked about her removal from our case.

“It’s a matter of public record once it’s filed. He just got ahold of it as soon as it was filed. He knows how much you guys mean to me.” She smiled warmly. I’d never appreciated her more than I did at that moment.

We plowed through the document. Greg’s lawyer claimed I’d had a duty to warn them about Janie and failed to fulfill my parental obligation in exercising responsible care, supervision, and control over her. He went on to say that I’d ignored Janie’s violent behavior and failed to provide the proper mental health treatment for her issues. He claimed I should’ve known there was a possibility that Janie would hurt someone, even kill them. He sealed his order by laying out how my lack of action and proper care contributed to Allison’s death and how I was therefore criminally responsible for it. He cited penal code after penal code and ended with something called Autumn’s Law, which I’d never heard of before.

I instinctively reached for Hannah’s hand, but it wasn’t there. Her hands were clasped tightly together on her lap.





SIXTY

HANNAH BAUER

I startled awake. There was a moment every morning when, for a split second, I didn’t remember everything I’d lost, and in the next instant my changed reality came rushing back, flooding me with memories. The grief pummeled me, making it take too much effort to roll over. But I didn’t have a choice. My outpatient therapy was a requirement if I stood any chance of ever getting my nursing license back. They hadn’t taken it yet, but they would as soon as they found out about my felony child abuse charge. It was only a matter of time.

I stared at Christopher while he slept. The trial judge had thrown out the manslaughter charges against him. He hadn’t wanted to be the first one to set a precedent for something like that, but Greg wasn’t willing to let go that easily. His lawyer had filed for the lesser charge of reckless endangerment, hoping they’d stand a better chance. Our lawyer assured us it was only a matter of time before that one was thrown out, too, but it didn’t matter. The damage had been done. Our story had been featured on the nightly news twice.

Cole was sprawled sideways across Christopher’s chest. Christopher had been bringing him into bed with us at night after he calmed him down. He said it was easier to keep him asleep that way. They’d been up three times during the night. I faked sleep when he came back to bed. My body refused to allow sleep until Cole was content. That part hadn’t changed, but I let Christopher take him at night when he fussed and said nothing. That’s how I was supposed to parent now.

I carefully slid Cole from his arms, doing my best not to wake Christopher, and carried him with me downstairs so Christopher could have an hour to sleep by himself. Cole stirred, and I bounced him on my chest as I heated his bottle. I’d spend the rest of my life making up for what I’d done to him, how close I’d come to irreversible damage. The images of him in the hospital would never leave.

I grabbed my pill container and carried it with us into the living room. Cole eagerly latched on to his bottle and settled on my chest. I lifted the tab for Tuesday. Two pinks in the morning. One white at lunch. Two pinks again in the evening. Blue octagon right before bed.

I’d expected coming home would be difficult, but it was harder than I had imagined. Our situation hung over us at all times. The walls were heavy with our story. Having Cole with us again didn’t make it any easier, even though I was grateful to have him back.

My panic attacks had waned at the hospital, but they were back in full force. The first one had happened as soon as I had walked in the front door. Everything about the house was a trigger. I felt like I was underwater, struggling to reach the surface for air, and each time I made it, I didn’t get enough air before I was shoved under again. I’d stopped counting attacks yesterday after I’d gotten to eleven.

I’d called Dr. Spence three times after they had started making me feel like I was going to throw up and have diarrhea at the same time. None of the techniques we’d practiced at the hospital worked in the real world. All I could do was hide in the bathroom until the feelings passed. The only things that made an impact at all were these stupid pills. I threw the two pink ones in my mouth, washing them down with the water I’d left on the end table last night.

Christopher and I still hadn’t talked about Janie. We tiptoed around her like she was a bomb that might explode if we got too close. I had asked him how their visit had gone yesterday because it was the right thing to do, but as soon as he’d started talking, panic had flooded me, and I’d barely made it to the bathroom in time.

Her presence was everywhere. I wanted to pack it up in boxes and put it all away. I closed my eyes whenever I walked by her room. I was never letting her back in my house. Ever. I didn’t care if there wasn’t a way to prove what had happened on the stairs—she had killed my sister. I wasn’t ever going to visit or see her again. I hadn’t told Christopher yet, but I would when I was strong enough for the fight I’d be up against. He’d still trade his life for hers.