She was sobbing hysterically, burying her face in a paramedic’s shoulder, playing the role of the traumatized, heartbroken mother flawlessly. Marlene and the sisters were sitting nearby, wrapped in blankets, nodding solemnly as they gave their statements to a detective.
They were gaslighting the police. They had turned the narrative entirely upside down.
“That is a lie,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “They attacked her.”
Harris sighed, pulling out a notepad. “Colonel, we have four adult witnesses corroborating the exact same story. They claim Lily has been highly unstable since your last deployment. They claim you refused to get her psychiatric help. We found the chemical jug with Lily’s fingerprints on it.”
Of course they did. They had forced her to touch it in the dark.
“We are going to have to take Lily to the county psychiatric facility for a mandatory 72-hour evaluation,” Harris continued, his voice hardening. “And given the allegations your wife is making regarding your negligence with hazardous materials in a home with a minor… I’m going to have to ask you to turn around and place your hands on the hood of my cruiser.”
I stared at him. The police were about to arrest me. Worse, they were about to hand my daughter back to the very people trying to destroy her, locking her away in a psych ward where Claire would have absolute control over her medical proxy.
The trap was brilliant. It was flawless. But they had forgotten one crucial detail.
I slowly raised my hands, turning around. “Lieutenant,” I said quietly over my shoulder. “Before you put those cuffs on me, I highly recommend you look at the tablet my associate is holding.”
