When a Child Stops Asking
Are you safe right now?” There was a sound in the background, something knocked hard against a wall, and a man’s voice rising, distorted with rage.
“Bernadette—” I started.
“Please don’t—” she said, and the line went dead.
I stared at the phone, my blood gone cold, and I dialed 911 and reported a domestic disturbance at their address, and then I paced my living room for three hours waiting for a callback that never came.
Chapter 14 — The Empty Desk
The next morning the bell rang and the kids poured in, noisy and ordinary, hanging coats, scrambling to seats.