The room went silent.
I laughed once. It was not because anything was funny.
“I know.”
“You would have told me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You dropped off your children ten days ago wearing jeans and a sweater. You were not pregnant.”
Emily began crying.
Two unmarked cars arrived five minutes later.
Detective Cole entered first.
She was in her late 40s, short, with gray hair beginning at her temples and a voice that never rose.
A woman from Child Protection came in behind her carrying an infant medical bag.
They examined the ankle band without removing it.
Mine.
The officers’.
Even the television.
Detective Cole placed them inside a metal evidence case.
“What is happening?” I asked.
“To whom?”
“We’re trying to find out.”
Emily shook her head.
“Bellweather.”
Cole looked at her.
“I saw the monitor.”
“What monitor?”
“The one with all the babies.”
The child protection worker took the newborn from Emily.
For the first time, my daughter resisted.
“She’s sick.”
