Chapter 4: The Man Julian Called
I memorized the way Julian's shoulders moved when he was lying.
He did it now — that slight forward curl, like he was making himself smaller so the words would travel more quietly.
His free hand pressed flat against the hallway wall.
He stayed on the call for four minutes.
I counted.
When he came back in, his face had been rearranged into something calmer.
"I called my brother," he said.
"To let the family know what's happening."
"Which brother?" I asked.
A pause so small most people would have missed it.
"Daniel."
Daniel lived in Phoenix.
He and Julian had not spoken in eight months over a disagreement about their father's estate.
I knew this because I had been the one to sit with Julian while he'd raged about it at the kitchen table.
"That's good," I said.
"Daniel should know."
Julian looked at me carefully, trying to read whether I believed him.
I gave him nothing.
Toby had been moved to a proper examination bed.
A nurse was taking his temperature again while another prepared the IV line.
Dr.
Vance had stepped out to speak with someone in the hallway — a woman in plain clothes who had arrived quickly and shown a badge to the front desk.
Evelyn had seen the badge too.
She sat in the corner chair now with her handbag in her lap and her ankles crossed, the posture she used when she wanted to appear composed.
Her eyes tracked the woman in the hallway.
"Who is that?" Evelyn asked.
"I don't know," I said.
"You should find out.
You should be asking questions instead of sitting there."
"I am asking questions," I said.
"I've been asking questions for months.
Nobody wanted to answer them."
Evelyn's mouth pressed into a line.
The woman in plain clothes came in without knocking.
She was perhaps fifty, with short gray-streaked hair and the kind of unhurried manner that meant she had done this many times before.
"I'm Sandra Reeves," she said.
"I'm a child welfare investigator with the county.
Dr.
Vance contacted our office." She looked at me.
"Are you the mother?"
"Yes.
I'm Claire Hartley."
"And these are both your children?
The infant and the girl?"
"Yes."
Sandra looked at Lily.
"Hi there.
What's your name?"
"Lily."
"That's a pretty name.
Is it okay if I ask you a few questions later, just the two of us?"
Lily looked at me.
I nodded.
"Okay," Lily said.
Julian stepped forward.
"I'd like to know what authority you have to speak with my daughter without my consent."
Sandra turned to him with no change in expression.
"When a report involves potential harm to a child, I have the authority to conduct an initial assessment.
You're welcome to have an attorney present for any formal interview, but right now I'm just introducing myself." She paused.
"You're the father?"
"Julian Hartley.
Yes."
"Mr.
Hartley, I'll need to speak with you as well.
Separately."
Something moved across Julian's face.
Not fear exactly.
Calculation.
"Fine," he said.
"But I want it on record that my wife has been struggling significantly since the birth.
Postpartum issues.
She's been treated for anxiety."
"I haven't been treated for anything," I said.
"I saw my OB twice for routine follow-ups.
There is no treatment.
There is no diagnosis."
Julian spread his hands.
"Claire, I'm not trying to attack you—"
"Then stop describing me to investigators as unstable."
Sandra made a note.
She did it without comment, which somehow made it worse for Julian than if she had reacted.
Evelyn stood up.
"I'd like to speak with you directly, Ms.
Reeves.
I can explain the full context of what's been happening in this family.
Claire has been overwhelmed, and we've only been trying to support her."
"I'll speak with everyone," Sandra said pleasantly.
"One at a time."
She asked Julian to wait in the family room down the hall.
He went, but he stopped at the door and looked back at Evelyn.
A long look.
The kind that carries instructions.
Evelyn gave him the smallest nod.
I saw it.
Sandra was writing something down and did not appear to see it.
But Lily did.
She looked up at me from the chair, and I could see in her face that she had understood exactly what that nod meant.
She reached into her jacket pocket.
There was a second notebook.
Smaller.
May you like
Green.
She had not shown anyone the green one yet.
