“Does it?”
She didn’t answer.
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Judge Mercer ordered a recess and made something clear before anyone left: Grant was not to approach the boys, and I was not taking them home yet either.
Not yet.
She wanted the photograph preserved in its original digital form, not merely the printed copy Ms. Dyer had presented, and she wanted the allegations about Eli’s ribs addressed before she made another placement decision.
My stomach tightened.
I had spent the morning afraid Grant would take my sons.
Now neither of us had them.
In the hallway, the vending machine smelled faintly of burnt coffee, and I stood beside it holding three quarters I had found in my coat pocket even though I wasn’t hungry enough to put them into the slot.
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