THE SHERIFF’S DEPUTY DROVE ACROSS TOWN TO DETROIT Street and parked the car and got out and stood for a moment looking at the trailer. The spring sun appeared to be too bright against the washed-out siding and the sagging roof, the plank porch, the unwashed windows. In the yard redroot and cheatgrass had begun to sprout up in the pale dirt. When he stepped onto the porch Luther let him in.
He sat down in the living room facing the couch where Luther and Betty sat watching him talk, studying his mouth, as if he were some preacher uttering everlasting pronouncements or the county judge himself saying out the law. He began to feel sick. He decided to make this as brief as possible. He told them they already knew about the children, what had been done to them and when and who had done it.
Betty’s pocked face went all to pieces. We never wanted him in here, she said. We told him he couldn’t come in.
You should of called us.
He was going to kill us, Luther said.
Did he say that?
Yes sir. That’s what he said. He wasn’t fooling.
But it’s too late now, isn’t it. He’s already abused your children. You have any idea where he’s run off to?
No sir.
No idea?
He was already gone when we got up this morning.
And he never said anything to you about where he might go.
He never told us nothing about what he was fixing to do.
Except for how he was going to kill us, Betty said.
The sheriff’s deputy looked around the room for a moment, then turned back. Was he still here yesterday when somebody from the sheriff’s office came to the door?
He was back in the hall there, Luther said. Waiting and listening.
He was?
Yes sir.
Well, we’ll find him. He can’t disappear forever.
But mister, Betty said, where’s our kids?
The deputy looked at her. She sat slumped in the couch, her hands in the lap of her dress, her eyes red with tears. Mrs. Tyler has taken them to the doctor, he said. We have to see how bad your uncle hurt them.
When do we get to see them?
That’s up to Mrs. Tyler. But they won’t be allowed to come back here. You understand that, don’t you? Not to live anyhow. There’ll be a hearing about this, probably on Wednesday.
What do you mean?
Ma’am, the judge has issued an emergency custody order and your children are going to be placed in a foster home. There’ll be a hearing about this within forty-eight hours.
Betty stared at him. Suddenly she threw her head back and wailed. You’re taking my children! I knew you was going to! She began to pull at her hair and scratch at her face. Luther leaned toward her and tried to catch her hands but she shoved him away. The sheriff’s deputy stepped across the room and bent over her. Here, he said. He took hold of her hands. Stop that now. That’s not going to do you any good. What good is that going to do anybody?
Betty shook her head, her eyes rolling unfocused, and she continued to wail into the rank and odoriferous air.
ROSE TOOK THE CHILDREN OUT OF SCHOOL AND DROVE TO the hospital and the doctor examined them in the emergency room. The lacerations were bad but he could find no broken bones. He applied antiseptic ointment to the cuts and welts and dressed the worst ones with bandages.