Chapter 2 - The call
I got the phone before she did.
Not because I intended to search it.
Because she was reaching.
I stepped backward.
“Don’t.”
“That is my property.”
“Stay away.”
“Daniel.”
Lily was still clinging to me.
That mattered.
I had already kicked Diane.
Already slapped her.
Whatever righteous anger I had felt could not become permission for another round.
I held Diane’s phone out of reach.
Then used my own.
My fingers shook so badly I mistyped once.
The dispatcher answered.
I said:
“My mother put my daughter in a dog kennel with a chain around her neck.”
The words sounded insane.
The dispatcher remained calm.
“Is the child out now?”
“Yes.”
“Is she conscious?”
“Yes.”
“Breathing normally?”
“I think so.”
“Any active bleeding?”
“No.”
“Is the person who did this still there?”
“Yes.”
Diane shouted:
“He assaulted me!”
The dispatcher heard.
“Sir, separate yourself from her if possible.”
I did.
I moved with Lily through the patio door.
Locked it.
Diane remained outside.
She slapped the glass.
“Daniel!”
I ignored her.
The dispatcher asked:
“Does she have access to another entrance?”
“Yes.”
I moved to the mudroom.
Locked that door too.
Then front.
The whole house felt suddenly full of entry points.
Lily whimpered against me.
“Daddy, no cage.”
“No cage.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
I knew promises around safety should be careful.
That one I could make.
Police arrived before the ambulance.
Officer Hannah Ruiz came through the front.
Another officer, Brandon Wells, went around back.
I handed Lily to the paramedic only after she reached for him voluntarily.
I stayed close.
The paramedic checked her neck.
Redness.
Mild pressure marks.
No respiratory distress.
No obvious airway injury.
Still, because of the location and mechanism, they recommended emergency evaluation.
Of course.
Then Officer Ruiz asked:
“Did you strike Diane Parker?”
“Yes.”
Her pen paused.
“How?”
“I kicked her when she blocked me from opening the kennel.”
“And after?”
“I slapped her.”
“Why?”
“She stood up and started defending what she did.”
“Was she threatening Lily at the moment you slapped her?”
No.
I wanted the answer to become yes.
It did not.
“No.”
Ruiz nodded.
No approval.
No accusation.
Facts.
“Did she strike you?”
“No.”
“Did she strike your daughter?”
“I saw her drag her with a chain and push her into the kennel.”
“Did you see any other physical contact?”
“No.”
“Phone?”
I looked down.
Still in my hand.
“It fell when I slapped her. A video was playing.”
“Did you unlock or search it?”
“No. It was already unlocked.”
“Have you touched anything on the screen?”
“I picked it up.”
She nodded.
Then:
“Put it on the table.”
I did.
No scrolling.
No heroic evidence hunt.
Diane came inside with Officer Wells.
Her face was red from my slap.
She had a swelling beginning near her temple.
Not severe.
Enough that paramedics wanted to examine her too.
She pointed at me.
“He attacked me twice.”
“Yes,” I said.
Ruiz looked at me.
“You don’t need to answer everything she says.”
Right.
Diane continued:
“He is unstable.”
I looked at Lily.
The paramedic was speaking softly to her.
Diane said:
“He has no idea what that child is like when he leaves.”
That sentence scared me more than the accusation.
Because it implied duration.
May you like
Routine.
A version of Lily’s life that existed only when I was not home.
