“Of course,” she offered, curtly but kindly.
Katie and I tumbled out of the morgue and rode the elevators up to street level, practically sprinting toward Ansen’s car.
“Get me out of here,” I begged her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I DIDN’T WASTE TIME. I did everything the coroner instructed me to do. I mailed off Sterling’s stuff and visited the county of Smithfield’s Department of Health and Human Services.
That night, I’d given Ansen half my graduation money so he could go to the store and buy instant ramen and milk and cereal and anything cheap but filling he could find.
“I saw Salinger there,” he said when he came back.
The mere mention of his name sent a pang through my chest and stomach.
“You didn’t say anything to him, did you?”
Ansen looked ill. “Was I not supposed to?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” I said.
“He was really worried about you,” he said. “Wanted to know if he could come by.”
“What did you say?” I asked, petrified of his answer.
“I said it was probably not a good time.”
I sighed in relief. “Good,” I replied.
“What happened?” Katie asked. “When we dropped you off?”
“I have no chance with him anymore,” I told her.
“Why?” she asked.
“I’m too dysfunctional for someone like him.”
“We all are,” she said.
We stared at the girls asleep on the couch. They’d clung to me the entire day.
“How does one become functional?” I asked them.
“You’re asking the wrong person, baby girl,” Katie answered.
I couldn’t sleep, so I stared at the stars the entire night, both girls beside me.
The next morning, Ansen and Katie went home to clean up, get a change of clothes, and promised to be back later. Since the girls were still asleep, I slipped away for a moment to take a shower myself. I turned the water on and waited for it to get hot. The tub creaked when I stepped inside it, threatening to break through the bottom, I thought. I could see the strings of the fiberglass peeking through, so it was just a matter of time, I knew it.
I wet my hair and peered down at the few soaps and bottles we had. My mom’s bottle of Suave stared back at me. I picked it up and cracked open the lid, smelling its contents.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “I killed her. I killed Mama.”
I bawled until the water turned cold, stayed beneath its torturous spray because I felt I deserved it. I only stopped because I heard someone knock on the door. Thinking it was Ansen and Katie, I turned the water off and hastily dressed, my hair still dripping down my neck.
The girls were up, kneeling on the sofa and checking for who it was out the window.
“Who?” I asked them.
“I don’t know them,” Eloise offered, making my heart race.
“Who in the world?” I asked no one.
I opened the door to a stocky woman and a police officer. “Can I help you?” I asked her.
“Miss Hahn, may I come in?”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you with the county? Is this about the burial?”
“No, ma’am. I’m with Child Protective Services.”
My gut sank to the floor. “Wait, what?”
“CPS, ma’am,” she offered again.
“Why?”
“There’s been a complaint. May I come in?”
“No,” I told her. “You may not.”
She looked up at the cop and he looked back at her. “Ma’am,” the cop offered sternly, “we can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way.”
“The hard way,” I demanded, so sick of being blindsided; I was ready for a fight. “Where’s your warrant?”
The woman sighed, as if she’d been expecting it, as if she was above it all. She pulled a piece of paper from her bag and held it up for me.
“What do you want?” I asked, not budging from my spot, blocking their entrance.
“Let us in, please, Miss Hahn,” the cop said, stepping forward.
Going against every fiber of my being, I stepped to the side and let them walk in. The woman glanced around her surroundings then brought pen to paper.
“What is your name?” I asked her.
She looked pissed that I’d even asked but offered it anyway. “My name is Faye Briar.”
I stole a look at the girls. “Eloise, Callie,” I began, “step into your room for me for a second?”
They obeyed me, holding hands as they went. A knock came at the screen door, as I’d left the front door open, hoping they would leave soon. There was another woman there, this time in scrubs.
“This is a nurse for the county, Miss Hahn.”
“Wh-why?” I asked, my voice cracking.
Oh my God, whatever they’d laced that joint with is still in my system.
“Someone has called into CPS claiming your sisters were in danger.”
“Bull. No one called.”
The Faye woman rolled her eyes. “I’ve come to understand that your mother and father are recently deceased?” she asked.
“Very recently,” I said. “We’re still in shock.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she offered dryly. “You are the only family of the girls?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Your parents didn’t have any extended family?” she asked again.
“Sterling is not my father.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, flipping through paperwork.
“He’s my stepfather and no, we have no other family. They’re all deceased.”
“I see,” she said, clearing her throat and looking up from her papers at me.
“Excuse me, but I’m a little confused. How are my sisters in danger?” I hedged.
“We’ve gotten word that living conditions were unsuitable and that you were addicted to a controlled substance.”
I balked at her. “I am not. Who made the accusation?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” she offered, shifting her briefcase to the other hand. “We’re here to assess the situation and submit a drug test.”
“I refuse,” I told them, rocking back and forth on my heels. My arms were crossed, gripping my shirt, damp from my wet hair.
Faye looked me up and down then made a notation on her pad. “That’s fine,” she explained, and my heart slowed down. “Just know that until you submit a drug test, the girls will be placed in a home.”
“Oh my God!” I cried, my hands going to my head. “You can’t do that. Our mom just died. You can’t do that!”
“Miss Hahn, please calm down.”
The nurse stared at our decrepit ceiling and avoided eye contact. The cop laid a hand on his gun.
“Please don’t do this to us. Please. They’ll be scarred for life as it is. Please don’t do this,” I said, bringing my palms out.
The Faye woman nodded at the cop and started toward my sisters’ room.
“No,” I said, and he stopped. “You don’t understand.” I wiped tears away, trying to gain some composure. “I was at a party. I admit I was smoking marijuana. I admit it. That’s all I do. I don’t do anything harder but when I smoked it, I realized too late that someone had laced it with something.” Faye looked uninterested, but she was feverishly scribbling across her pad of paper. “I think they were trying to or maybe they did, I don’t know, rape me or something.” The cop looked down at me, his eyes narrowed at me. “You gotta believe me.” All three adults sat there, their body language rigid and all business. “Oh my God, I’ll take the test. I’ll take it just so I can see what they drugged me with. I have witnesses that will corroborate my story.”
The nurse walked to my mom’s kitchen table, the same one we used to sit together and draw with crayons on, and set down a big plastic folding case. She popped it open and retrieved an alcohol swab, needle, test tubes, a pair of scissors, and a small container with a taped label.
“Miss Hahn—” she began.
“If I do this, are you still taking the girls?” I asked the Faye woman.
If you tell the truth, everything will work out.
“Let’s just take the test,” she hedged.
“You can’t take them. You don’t know what it will do to them.”
I sat down and swiped my face across my sleeve. “First, Faye and I will witness a urine test and after, I’ll take a blood test and a sample of your hair,” she explained methodically.