Shea took a defensive step back as the woman took one forward. Claribel Sanchez produced the folder she had tucked under her arm. “We have an emergency injunction in the care of your daughter, Kallie Bentley. I’m sorry, but we have to remove her from your care pending further investigation of the incident occurring yesterday.”
“N-n-no,” Shea stuttered over the denial, and she backed up more. Anxiety and desperation scattered through her, defenses turned to full throttle, like she was considering bolting up the stairs and going for her daughter.
I cut in, trying to diffuse the situation. “What is going on here? Kallie was released from the hospital without injuries. She’s in no danger.”
The woman had the grace of appearing sympathetic as she glanced between Shea and me, who looked like she was about to succumb to the worst kind of anxiety attack. “I’m sorry, but that’s for the court to decide. She’ll be removed from her mother’s care until it’s resolved if Ms. Bentley is fit to maintain custody.”
“Please,” Shea cried, stepping forward as if she were going to take hold of the woman, beseeching, imploring, breaking another piece of my heart. “Please don’t do this. My child…she’s my life. I would never willingly allow anything bad to happen to her. That article…they lied…I was in the water with her and a wave knocked her from my hold. Please. Don’t do this.”
Desperation poured from her.
More sympathy from the woman, her eyes traveling around the sanctity and peace of Shea’s house, like she was forming her own judgments and maybe they were contrary to the court’s.
But I knew well enough that none of that mattered.
This woman was simply doing her job.
How the hell could they determine that from gossip rags? Not interview those who were there? This was fucked.
I dug my phone from my back pocket. Kenny was on speed dial. It went right to voicemail.
Fuck, I silently cursed, ending that call and dialing Anthony. He answered on the second ring. “What now, Sebastian? Please tell me you haven’t gone and gotten yourself into more trouble,” he asked, resigned, drained from the day.
“CPS is taking Kallie. Get Kenny and now. I want to know who did this and get this reversed. Immediately.” Hysteria and anger gushed from me in a steady stream of words. “Tell him to get a team together. Whoever is the best. I want them working on this tonight.”
For Shea, I knew even one night was too much.
“Shit,” he hissed. “I’m on it.”
I clicked off the call.
The two police officers stepped inside with the clear intention to dissuade any untoward opposition on my part, prepared for my counter attack.
“No,” Shea begged when the woman began to inch toward her. She stretched her arms across the stairs, a barrier across both railings. “No,” she said again.
“Mommy?” That tiny voice drifted from the top of the landing, her fist rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she hugged her butterfly in the bend of her elbow.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said again, taking the opportunity to edge around Shea when all of her attention lifted to her daughter.
As she passed, Shea latched a hand onto the woman’s arm. “Please don’t do this. I will do anything. Please.”
“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the woman returned, slanting her own plea to Shea from over her shoulder as she jerked her arm free and continued the climb to the top of the stairs.
Claribel Sanchez went right for Kallie, picked her up, and dashed right back down.
April appeared at the top of the stairs, confused, obviously trying to decode what was taking place, before she shot me a look that blamed me for all of this.
Pain lanced through the room, and it was like I could feel Shea splintering, completely breaking apart.
“Please, let me at least tell her goodbye.”
The woman gave her a reluctant nod, and Shea rushed forward and grasped both sides of Kallie’s frightened face. She whispered urgent words to her daughter. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. Mommy is right here and you’re going to be home before you know it. Whatever you do, don’t forget how much I love you.”