Her advice was hard to hear, but I knew she was right.
Two hours later, while Ivy was resting, Francesca called me back. “Annette, something else came up. The paramedic from last night, Pete, contacted Child Protective Services. He remembered a prior service call to that house.”
“For Ivy?”
“Yes. About three months ago.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
Part 3
“Tell me exactly what he said,” I managed.
“I don’t have the full report,” Francesca said. “But Pete remembered the call because it stuck with him. A neighbor reported a small child sitting alone on the porch steps after dark in near-freezing weather. When the crew arrived, Calvin answered the door and said Ivy had locked herself out by accident, and that he’d been in the shower. He was polite. He thanked them. They wrote it up as a welfare check with no finding, and left.”
“Nobody told me.”
“Nobody was required to tell you. You weren’t the one who called, and the report didn’t name you.” She paused. “But CPS is opening a case now, and an intake worker will come to the hospital this afternoon. I’d like to be there. Don’t talk to Calvin, and don’t let Ivy talk to anyone about the details until she’s with a trained interviewer.”
“She’s nine, Francesca.”
“I know. That’s why it has to be done properly.”
I hung up and stood outside Ivy’s room with my forehead against the cool wall. Through the narrow window, I could see her asleep, one hand curled beneath her cheek, her stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin. A nurse had found it in the pocket of her jacket.
Dr. Okafor, the pediatrician on duty, found me there a few minutes later.
“Mrs. Hartley,” she said. “May I talk with you about Ivy’s condition?”
“Please.”
“Her core temperature was 94 degrees when she arrived. That’s mild hypothermia. She was also dehydrated and hadn’t eaten in a long while. She’ll recover fully, and we’ll keep her another night for observation.” She hesitated. “I also have to tell you that I’ve made a report of my own. Not because I’m accusing anyone, but because what I see doesn’t match the story I was given.”
“I understand,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” she said gently. “She’ll want her mother when she wakes.”
Part 4
The CPS caseworker was a woman in her fifties named Beverly Oduya, with reading glasses on a chain and the unhurried manner of someone who had sat in a great many hospital rooms.
She met with Francesca and me first, then asked to see Ivy alone for twenty minutes with a child-interview specialist. I waited in the hallway, counting ceiling tiles and failing.
When Ms. Oduya came out, her face was composed, but her eyes were tired.
“She’s a very brave girl,” she said. “She told us a lot. I won’t repeat all of it to you here, but I’ll tell you this: your daughter described what was on that paper. She said it had happened more than once, and that she’d stopped telling anyone because she thought no one would believe her.”
“Who told her that?”
“She said Lorna did.” Ms. Oduya let the sentence stand. “She also said she wrote the dates in her backpack so that someone would find them if something happened. She’s a smart child, Mrs. Hartley. She made a plan.”
I covered my mouth.
“I’m going to recommend an emergency protective order, effective today,” she said. “Ivy will be released into your care only. Calvin and Lorna will have no contact with her until a judge reviews the case. Do you have a safe place to take her?”
“My house. My sister is already driving in from Dayton.”
“Good. I’ll need you to make sure she isn’t alone for the next few weeks. And I’d like to arrange a therapist.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
Francesca, standing beside me, put a hand lightly on my shoulder.
“There’s one more thing,” Ms. Oduya said. “Mr. Hartley’s house has a doorbell camera. The neighbor who called three months ago mentioned it. We’re requesting the footage from the manufacturer. If it was backed up to the cloud, we may have everything.”
Part 5
It had been backed up.
Calvin, who had always liked gadgets, had installed the camera himself the previous spring. He’d shown it off to everyone, including me, at a school event. “You can watch the whole porch from your phone,” he’d said, with that proud, easy smile. He had never thought about the fact that the footage would be stored on a server outside his control.
