Near midnight, Miriam told me that a temporary arrangement had been authorized and Emma could stay with me while the court reviewed the matter.

It was not permanent custody.

It was not the end of an investigation.

But it was the beginning of a night in which she could sleep without worrying that her father would punish her for asking for help.

I took her hand as we walked out.

She was exhausted, clutching the drawing kit against her sweater.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes?”