That frightened me more than the bruises.
My father had raised two children after my mother died. He had worked construction until his back gave out. I had watched him stitch his own hand after an accident because he didn’t want to leave a job unfinished.
I had never heard him sound afraid like that.
I turned toward Officer Davis.
“Separate them.”
Chloe stopped crying immediately.
“What?”
“My father, Chloe, and my brother. Separate rooms. No communication.”
My brother, Daniel, finally spoke.
“This is ridiculous. Dad has dementia.”
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