Chapter 10: The Witness
I sat very still with the phone against my ear.
"Someone in the house," I said.
"That's what the statement claims.
An individual who was present during Richard Calloway's first visit and observed the interaction between you, Mr.
Calloway, and the children."
"Patricia, the only people in this house that day were me, Richard, and the four girls."
"I know."
The word landed in my chest like something cold.
"You're saying one of the girls gave a statement to Eleanor's attorney."
"I'm saying that's what the filing claims.
I don't yet know which one, or under what circumstances the statement was obtained."
I stood up from the table.
"They're minors.
Can Eleanor's team even approach them without my consent?"
"Not directly.
Not formally.
But if a minor initiates contact, or if contact was made through a third party the minor trusted—" Patricia stopped.
"I need to know if any of the girls has had contact with anyone connected to the Calloway family in the past week.
Anyone at all."
I thought.
I went through the week in my head, day by day.
Then I stopped.
"Bea," I said.
"The youngest?"
"She's ten.
She's on a kids' app on her tablet.
She's been excited about—" I pressed my hand to my forehead.
"She told me last week that she'd made a new friend online.
A girl who said she liked the same cartoon show.
I didn't think anything of it."
Patricia was quiet for a moment.
"That may be how it happened," she said.
"A ten-year-old talking to someone she thought was a friend.
Saying things children say.
It wouldn't be a formal statement in any meaningful legal sense, but Eleanor's team may be presenting it as one to delay the proceedings and cast doubt."
"She used a child," I said.
"She used a ten-year-old to spy on her own family."
"It appears so."
I ended the call and went upstairs.
Bea was in her room, cross-legged on her bed with the tablet in her lap.
She looked up when I came in with the open, uncomplicated expression of someone who had no idea what was coming.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"Bea, I need to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me."
"Okay."
"The new friend you made online.
The girl who likes the same cartoon.
Have you been talking to her about our family?"
Bea's face shifted.
Not guilt exactly.
Uncertainty.
"A little.
She asked about my sisters.
And about you." She picked at the edge of her tablet case.
"And she asked about the man who came for cake.
I said he seemed nice."
"Did she ask you anything else?"
"She asked if you were strict.
I said no." Bea looked up at me.
"Was I not supposed to talk to her?"
I took a breath.
"You didn't do anything wrong.
But I think that girl may not have been who she said she was."
Bea stared at me.
"She lied?"
"I think someone asked her to talk to you.
To find out things about us."
The uncertainty on Bea's face shifted into something I rarely saw there.
A slow, dawning hurt.
"Because of the grandma lady?" she asked.
I looked at her.
"What do you know about the grandma lady?"
"I heard you and Maya talking.
The night the lady came to the door." She set the tablet down.
"I know she wants to take us away."
"She's not going to take you anywhere."
"But she sent someone to trick me."
I put my arm around her.
She leaned into me the way she had since she was small, her head against my shoulder.
"She did," I said.
"And that was wrong.
And Patricia is going to make sure the judge knows about it."
Bea was quiet for a moment.
"Mom," she said.
"I told the girl that you were the best mom in the world.
Is that bad?"
My throat tightened.
"No, baby.
That's not bad at all."
She picked the tablet back up and held it out to me.
"You should probably take this for a while."
I took it.
Downstairs, I found Maya and Cora in the kitchen.
They had heard me come down.
They were both looking at me.
"It was Bea," Cora said.
It wasn't a question.
"She didn't know.
Someone approached her online."
Maya's face went through several things very quickly.
She landed on something controlled and cold.
"Eleanor used a ten-year-old," she said.
"Yes."
Maya pulled out her chair and sat down.
She put both hands flat on the table.
"I want to go to the hearing," she said.
"I want to be there when this goes in front of a judge.
I want Eleanor Calloway to look at me and understand that she was wrong about us."
"Maya—"
"I'm eighteen.
I can be there.
Patricia said so." She looked at me.
"Please."
I looked at my oldest daughter.
At the set of her jaw and the steadiness in her eyes and the ten years of everything behind them.
"Yes," I said.
"You can be there."
She nodded once.
May you like
"Good," she said.
"Then let's finish this."
