Chapter 3 - The Statement
"We have a case of unlawful confinement and child endangerment," Nurse Gable announced before my mother could spin another one of her polished falsehoods. She slid the intake form and the digital tablet across the counter toward the sergeant. "The child was brought in by her aunt after being extracted from a locked enclosure in the guardians' home. Photographic evidence of the scene is already logged on the aunt's phone."
Sergeant Miller turned his attention to Gloria and Walt. "Mr. and Mrs. Vance?"
"Officer, thank God you're here," Gloria gasped, her hands flying to her chest in an instantly manufactured display of distress. "Our erratic, unstable daughter broke into our home tonight, smashed our kitchen window, terrified us, and stole our grandchild. She has delusions. She's been hostile toward our guardianship ever since her brother Ian went into rehab."
Miller listened, nodding slowly, then turned his gaze to me. "And your name, ma'am?"
"Natalie Hayes," I said, stepping forward while keeping Lizzy shielded against my side. "I'm Lizzy's aunt. I received a phone call from her at two in the morning. She was locked inside the upstairs storage closet. My parents installed a metal latch on the outside. I have the photos I took when I got inside the house, and I have the call log showing she called me directly."
I unlocked my phone and handed it to the sergeant. He scrolled through the images: the shattered kitchen window, the heavy metal hasp screwed into the doorframe, the dark, cramped interior filled with winter coats and plastic bins. He looked at the call log, then back at me, and finally at my parents.
"You put a latch on the outside of a child's closet?" Miller asked Walt, his voice dropping an octave into something cold and sharp.
"She climbs out the window," Walt lied, his voice gravelly and defensive. "She's got no sense of danger. We had to keep her contained at night so she wouldn't hurt herself or wander out into the street."
"At six years old?" Miller questioned. "With a padlock hasp?"
"We didn't lock a padlock on it," Gloria interjected sharply, stepping in to correct her husband's slip. "It was just latched. To teach her boundaries. She has a defiant disorder."
"She was terrified, hungry, and locked in the dark," I said, my voice shaking with a fury I struggled to keep bottled. "She hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. Look at her arms. Look at her ribs."
Sergeant Miller crouched down so he was at eye level with Lizzy. His stern demeanor softened instantly. "Hey there, sweetheart. Can I call you Lizzy?"
Lizzy slowly peeked out from behind my shoulder, her big eyes wide. She gave a tiny nod.
"Did anyone hurt you, Lizzy?" Miller asked gently. "Did they give you food and water today?"
Lizzy bit her lower lip, glancing nervously at my mother. Gloria glared at the child with a look so venomous it made my blood run cold—a look that vanished the second Miller turned his head back to check her expression.
"She doesn't know what she's saying," Gloria rushed to cover. "She lies constantly to get attention."
"I'm talking to the child, Mrs. Vance," Miller said, his tone razor-sharp. He turned back to Lizzy. "You don't have to be scared anymore, okay? You're safe here. Did your grandparents lock you in the closet often?"
May you like
Lizzy swallowed hard, her small voice barely audible above the hum of the hospital lights. " Every night... and sometimes when the sun was still up if I asked for an apple."
The silence in the waiting area became absolute.
