by Roz Nay
“Don’t touch him,” I say.
In the doorway, she tries to gather some height. “Sully is a good man,” she says. “You were right about that. And a very good investigator.”
It’s a threat, and I know it. “Shut up,” I say. “You’re bluffing. And you’re doomed. Ruth, do you think I give a single shit about the police?” I shift Will farther from her line of sight. “Let’s talk about the power I have. I’m a child protection social worker. I can remove anyone’s child—anyone’s from anywhere. Even my own sister’s.”
She’s still and silent now, her eyes reddening. “What is wrong with you?”
“Me?” I say. “Look in the mirror, sis.”
“I protected you after Pim. I didn’t want you to carry any of the blame. You were eight years old; you were a good girl, my little sister. And I did it again when you got yourself pregnant. I let you lie and get away with it. I walked away from our family so that you could stay. But you know what I realize now?” She’s choking on the words, coughing them out like phlegm. “I should have just left you to hang.”
“Fuck. You.” The two of us stand in silence. I can feel my heart slamming in my chest. I recover my steadiness and find more words that come out treacly and sweet. “That’s nice, isn’t it, Will? Isn’t she so caring? Your long-lost auntie?” I kiss him lightly on the forehead. “Lucky she’ll never be your real mom.”
I push forward and close the door in Ruth’s face, locking it behind her. I walk back to the living room. There’s not a sound from Chase’s room. He’s managed to sleep through all the disruption.
I put Will back into his bassinet by the couch and pull the blanket over him. He’s staring at me, his eyes drilling into mine. It’s a face I’ve seen before, and I shake it from my memory. I won’t go back there. Pim is gone.
“Stop it,” I say. But he doesn’t. I work the clothespin out of his grasp, throw it across the floor. Then I turn away from him, bury my face in my pillow, and try to sleep.
RUTH
Seven days later, Sully walks me into the Family Services building for the family conference. We ride the grinding elevator in silence, my stomach churning. Once we’re inside their reception area, which is cruelly colorful, Morris shows us into the boardroom, hurrying to lower dusty vinyl blinds over a huge whiteboard that flanks one whole wall. I catch a glimpse of a few names before he does. Other taken children. I feel utterly queasy.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Morris says. “Let me go and round up Minerva and Alex.”
“They won’t be long,” Sully says once he’s gone. He insisted on coming with me to the family conference, woke me up early, made sure I wore ironed clothes. He hands me a granola bar he got from the vending machine.
I stare at the snack, my insides slippery as eels. “Sully, what if they don’t give him back?” I remember him on her chest at the door, his eyes wide and frightened. That was one week ago. He’s my child. He needs me, and I need him. More than that—I’m more than fit to care for him. Can’t anyone see that but me?
“Try to stay positive, Ruth. We’ll have answers soon.”
But Alex has stacked the cards against me. She’s always been a cheater, and I’m wondering what she has up her sleeve this time.
Sully pulls out the folder he’s been working on for the past two weeks, sets it down on the table.
“Do you really think we have all we need?” I’d been confident until now. Sully had convinced me we were more than safe. But now it’s decision time, and it’s all I can do not to vomit onto the carpet.
Sully goes to say something, but is cut off by the reentry of Morris and Minerva. They march in the same exact formation as when they came into my hospital room. Morris leads, his tie askew; Minerva trails behind. He takes a seat opposite us. She follows suit.
“I’m sorry for the wait,” he says. “And may I just quickly reintroduce Minerva Cummins to you, although I’m sure you remember us both.”
“Of course I do,” I say. They came like reapers into my life; I’ll never forget either of their faces, ever.
“Officer Mills, I hadn’t actually been told you were coming to this meeting.”
“I’m only here for Ruth,” Sully says. He places a warm hand over top of mine. Minerva tracks it and briefly I wonder if everyone who works in Alex’s office is in love with Sully.
“Where’s Alex?” I ask.
“On her way. She’s running a little bit late this morning.” Morris smiles apologetically.
“Right,” Sully says.
I shake my head. Is she’s doing it on purpose, to make an entrance? Will she bring my baby, or leave him at home with Chase?
Sully nudges me, and I focus on what Morris is saying. “I know it’s been a tough month. But we’re all here to see if we can find the best pathway forward for Will.”
“Give him back, then,” I say.
“Sometimes, the best solution for a child isn’t always what you as a birth parent might—” Morris begins, but I can’t hear him anymore, because Alex has arrived in a flurry into the boardroom. She’s alone. No Chase. And no Will. I stare at her, my eyes hard. The last time I saw her she slammed the door in my face.
“Sorry,” she says. “I was up all night and…” She stops short at the sight of Sully. “I’ve been working hard. Protecting the ones I can.” Sully meets her gaze, but his face stays neutral.
“So now that we’re all here,” Morris says, placing both palms flat on the table, “let’s outline the situation as it stands. As you know, concerns were brought to light about the safety of Will Van Ness.”
Across the table, I watch my sister, the child protection worker, operating however she sees fit, abusing her power. All I feel for her is sadness and anger. But she sits placidly, as if protected by an invisible shield. How did we end up here?
“In the month that’s gone by, Minerva and I have managed to gather collaterals regarding Eli Beck, the alleged father of Will—and in fact, Officer Mills, your department has been very helpful with that.”
“Eli Beck has an extensive criminal record,” Sully says. “It’s not a secret.”
“No, but the problem lies in the ongoing contact he has with Ms. Van Ness,” Morris says. “We can’t in good faith say that a child will be safe if he is in such close proximity to a known felon.”
“He’s not in close proximity,” I say. “I left Eli behind in Pittsburgh.”
“Did you?” Alex replies. It’s all I can do not to launch across the table and beat her.
“We’ve had a look at the phone records,” Morris says, “and there was ongoing contact.”
“Of what nature?” Sully asks.
“I never answered his phone calls. I texted him, but that was to make sure he stayed away.” Beside me, Sully’s eyes are calm. He’s willing me to stay calm with him.
“There’s also the matter of the drugs,” Morris says, changing direction. “The ones hidden by Ruth in her sister’s loft apartment.”
Alex keeps her hands neatly on the table. There’s not even the slightest tremor in them.
Sully intervenes. “The drugs in question are in police custody. Although Ms. Van Ness admitted to hiding them originally, she turned the drugs in voluntarily. They were officially reported and seized.”
“What?” Alex bolts upright in her seat.
Beside me, Sully, stoic as rock, flips open the folder. “On the fifth day of September, Ruth Van Ness, accompanied by Chase Kennedy, surrendered a quantity of drugs and cash to police custody of her own volition. These were not hers, and she did not want them. She has also been immensely helpful and cooperative in giving evidence against a known felon, Eli Beck. As such, her behavior has been extremely responsible, Morris, not criminal. It’s someone else who’s been acting illegally and untruthfully.”
I stare at the side of Sully’s face. He’s so good at this. Never before have I had anyone fight in my corner.
“When any drugs are seized,” Sully goes on, “we write
a report on how they came into police possession. I wrote the report about these drugs, Morris. I took the liberty of bringing you a copy of it today.” He slides the first of his pristine white sheets across the table. “You’ll see I’ve documented the seizure of the drugs as just stated.
“Ruth surrendered the tin just before she went into labor. It was not where she had hidden it in the home of Alex and Chase. But she did locate it. This is all documented.” Sully drums his fingers on the papers in front of him. “The drugs were behind a vent in your bedroom, Alex. Chase Kennedy has made an official statement about this, as he was there with Ruth when she located them. What was strange, though, is that Ruth claims this was not where she’d put the drugs originally. And Chase had never seen them before.”
Alex looks at me. She knows only I could have directed Chase to that hiding spot.
Sully continues. “It was you, Alex, who first told me of the drugs. Did you move them, Alex? And if so, why? Eli Beck came to your apartment, hunting your sister down because she had fled from him. During that visit, you attacked him with a paring knife. I have a sworn statement from him to that effect. Forensics have traced particles of his blood in your entranceway. And yet Ruth and Chase claim to have no knowledge of this encounter.”
“Why are you even here? You’ve been harboring Ruth in your home. What for? When you know that she and Eli are deadbeats, when—”
“He’s here for Ruth.” Minerva keeps her voice level even though her mouth curves slightly. “He said so.”
“And I’m acting in an official capacity. I’ve been working hard, too, Alex,” Sully says. “Protecting the ones I can.” He teases out the remaining two sheets of white paper—lab reports. “When drugs are seized by our department, we run a toxicology report. It’s standard procedure. We’ve had two batches of the same drug seized within a month of each other—one from the Floyd residence, one from the home of Chase Kennedy. I took the two reports. And I compared them.”
I see a flash of disbelief cross Alex’s face. It’s the same look she had as a kid when we played Monopoly, when she knew her empire was crumbling.
“Cocaine is like a fingerprint. Each batch has additives that make it unique. That’s actually helpful to us with investigations as we can often track a batch back to its source.” Sully pushes the sheets of paper across to Morris, who picks them up and scans them. “Benzocaine.” Sully points from one report to the other. “It’s a numbing agent. It’s rare to see it in powder form, rare to see it ever, in fact. But here, it’s in both batches—in the drugs Ruth turned in and in the small amount found at the Floyd residence. So that really stood out to me.”
All the blood drains from Alex’s face.
Morris looks as though he’s just been slapped. “I’m sorry … This is all new to me. Are you saying—”
“I’m saying that the drugs handed over to me by Ruth Van Ness are definitely from the same batch as those found at the Floyds’, the drugs that were cited as the basis of removal of their child.”
“So what? What does that prove? It just means that Eli Beck is their dealer. You already know he’s been in town.”
Sully sits taller, faces my sister. “Eli Beck was most certainly nowhere near here on July twenty-fourth, when you, Morris, and Minerva found drugs in their home. I have definitive proof that on that day, and for weeks before, he was turning up to his mandated hours of community service in Pittsburgh and logging in with his parole officer. I checked.” Sully continues to look straight at my sister. “As far as I see, there’s only one person who had access to both Chase Kennedy’s loft apartment and the Floyd residence. Tell me, Alex, how far would you go to protect a child?”
And it’s then, only then, as Alex withers in her seat, that I allow myself to exhale. Sully reaches under the table and grabs my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. It’s really happening. For once, the universe is on my side. Alex is paying for what she did. And me? I might actually get my baby boy back.
ALEX
My mind is racing, but if I can just stay focused, everything will turn out the way it should. I know it. I just need to stay calm and clear.
I’ve been trying so hard, trying to do everything right. Sometimes, though, the more you reach for something, the farther away it gets. Sometimes, you reach and reach, and you can’t make contact. And everything’s slides away.
“Alex,” Sully says, snapping me back into the moment. “Answer the question. How far would you go to protect a child?”
“You have to be kidding me,” I say. “The Floyds could have bought those drugs from anyone, not necessarily this Eli guy. I have nothing to do with this, except the confiscation part, which tells you exactly how far I’d go to protect a child—as far as I possibly can.” I practically spit the words in his face. I hate him, this man who I once had feelings for, another betrayer in my midst, yet another person letting me down.
“Alex, your fingerprints are on the baggies we confiscated from the Floyds.” Sully folds his arms against his chest. “But their prints are not. Keep talking, though.”
Morris is still holding the lab reports. His face is the same color as the paper. “Alex, how the hell did this happen?”
“Morris, you know whose side I’m on. You know.”
“You … you planted drugs in their home?” Minerva asks.
Her eyes are watery. I’m sickened by her weakness. I roll my eyes. “Oh, fuck off, Minerva. You’ve never been in this job to do actual work. If we did things your way, we’d lose children left and right.”
She glares at me, and predictably, her tears start to fall. “How dare you,” she says. “Evelyn Floyd has been through enough. I can’t believe you’d do this to her. It’s unthinkable!”
As if we’re all meant to believe Minerva ever really cared about Evelyn or her son. That was me. She’s a lost cause, always has been. It’s Morris who will have my back. I turn to him.
“Morris, in this job, saving one person always means hurting another,” I say. “Problems hide inside themselves like … like Russian dolls. There’s no way to twist one closed without opening another. As social workers, we know this. We know that what matters most is child protection, and that has to come above all else.”
“Above the law?” Sully asks.
“Above the truth?” Morris adds.
I set my jaw, clenching it. I think of Will, his tiny hand wrapped around that useless clothespin. I want to go home. I want to bury myself in the brand-new, fresh-chance smell of him. Soon. Soon I will be there.
Morris glares at me. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks toward the back of the room and yanks the string of the vinyl blinds behind us, exposing the whole whiteboard wall of children in care. “Are there others?” he asks. His whole face has gone gray.
“What do you mean ‘others’?” I ask.
“Other cases where you’ve planted incriminating evidence that undermines not only the safety of children and families but the very essence of social work?” he roars, and the whole room goes rigid. “Are there more cases involving children other than Buster Floyd or Will Van Ness where you’ve lied to ensure a child’s removal?”
We stare at each other in silence.
“Answer the goddamn question, Alex,” Sully says.
But the answer is not so simple. The truth never is. Because the laws don’t cut it. Dysfunctional families reproduce endlessly, while healthy ones lose their children through no fault of their own. It happened to us in Horizon. It happens every second of every day.
Sully stands up, handcuffs at his hip. “I’m arresting you, Alexandra Van Ness, for unlawful possession of a controlled substance and fabricating evidence. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”
“I loved you,” I say. “I thought you were on my side.”
“I could say the same thing to you.” He grabs m
y elbow, urging me up from the chair.
“Ruth,” I say. “Tell them. Tell them the truth. Tell them I only ever wanted to protect Pim.”
“You mean Will, right, Alex? Will. My son.”
Ruth’s eyes fill with tears, but I don’t believe them. I never have.
So what? I made a slip of the tongue. It’s totally understandable, given my stress levels and lack of sleep. I’ve been mothering a child every minute, every hour of the day. And who knew they’d look so much alike?
“Sister,” Ruth says. “There’s nothing I’ll ever be able to do to help you.”
Sully is now by my side. He bends to click cuffs onto my hands.
“What? What are you doing?”
“It’s for your own protection, Alex,” he says.
My mind flash floods with the faces of children. All the ones I’ve rescued from horrible homes, all the ones who’ll languish now that I’m not there to help them. Buster Floyd. Oh God, they’ll give him back to his rancid, lowbrow parents, who’ll fill him with toxins and ignorance. He’ll suffocate in their dirt and misery.
“Morris, I’m your very best protection worker. You know this!” But it’s as if I’m speaking buried under a great weight: nobody’s listening. I feel Sully’s hands on my wrists, moving me. Just five weeks ago, his touch felt electric with chemistry. Now it’s cold and unplugged. He walks me toward the door.
“You are not my very best protection worker, Alex,” Morris says. “You’re a fraud.”
Minerva sits in a chair, her fat body puddled around. I want to pull her hair as I pass, but I don’t. Instead, as Sully leads me away, I jam my sneaker against the doorframe and lock eyes with Ruth.
“I’m the guarder,” I say. “That’s my job.” It’s the role I was given when Pim handed me the peg, and we never changed roles again.
She wipes a tear from her cheek. My sister sees me, sees my pain, but she’ll leave me hanging, as always. It’s Horizon all over again.
“I’m the guarder,” I say again, this time more quietly, as Sully moves me through the doorway and out into the corridor. There’s nothing more to be said.