Chapter 7 - EMMA’S SECOND STORYEmma underwent a forensic interview the next afternoon.
I was not in the room.
I watched through one-way video with Detective Ellis and a child advocate.
Emma sat in a soft blue chair.
A woman named Karen Bell introduced herself.
They talked first about school.
Dogs.
Whether pineapple belonged on pizza.
Then Karen asked:
“Tell me about drinks at Grandma Linda’s.”
Emma picked at a thread on her sleeve.
“Grandma makes special lemonade.”
“What makes it special?”
“I don’t know.”
“What does she put in it?”
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Emma shrugged.
“Drops.”
My hands went cold.
“What do the drops look like?”
“Clear.”
“Where do they come from?”
“Little bottle.”
“Does it have writing?”
“I don’t read it.”
“Does Grandma tell you what it is?”
“She says it helps my body stop being silly.”
I closed my eyes.
Karen remained neutral.
“What does that mean?”
“When I get nervous.”
“Do you like the drink?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Bitter.”
“How many times have you had it?”
Emma started counting on her fingers.
Then stopped.
“A lot?”
“More than one?”
“Yes.”
“More than five?”
She thought.
“Maybe.”
“Does anyone else know?”
Emma’s face changed.
“Dad.”
There it was.
“What does Dad know?”
“He told Grandma not too much.”
Michael made a noise behind me.
A tiny exhale.
I turned.
He was watching from a separate area with his attorney but visible through another window.
Our eyes met.
He looked away.
Karen asked:
“When did Dad say that?”
“At Grandma’s.”
“What were they talking about?”
“The drops.”
“Tell me the words you remember.”
Emma swallowed.
“Dad said, ‘Mom, not that much.’”
May you like
My legs stopped holding me.
I sat.
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