My daughter was alive. My legs almost gave out, but I locked my knees.
“Give me the address,” I said.
“Ma’am…”
“Give me the address to my daughter.”
I grabbed the receipt.
“That’s 2 hours away,” I said. “Across state lines.”
“We need to coordinate,” the detective said.
“Then coordinate fast. I’m done being the last person told where my child is.”
I turned toward the door.
“I’m going to her.”
Mark stood. “I’m coming.”
“No. You’re not.”
“Dani…”
“You made every decision for a year. Now I make this one.”
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Denise picked up my purse and keys. “I’ll drive.”
At the center, a counselor met me in a small office.
“Detective Harris called ahead,” the counselor said. “We’re reviewing Sophie’s file now.”
I gripped the chair. “I’m not here for a statement. I’m here for my daughter.”
Her expression softened. “Sophie is here. She’s physically stable, but she still has anxiety and memory gaps from the accident.”
“Does she know I’m here?”
“Not yet. We wanted to prepare her.”
“No.”
The counselor blinked. “No?”
“My daughter spent a year believing I didn’t come for her,” I said. “I’m not waiting outside while adults decide what’s best.”
Denise touched my elbow. “Easy, Dani.”
“I am being easy,” I said. “I’m standing here instead of tearing this place apart.”
The counselor nodded once. “Then we go slowly. But we go now.”
She led us down a blue hallway. Every step felt too loud.
“She’s in the art room,” the counselor said.
I looked through the small window.
Sophie sat at a table with a sketchbook. Her hair was longer, and her face was thinner.
But it was Sophie.
My Sophie.
The counselor opened the door. “Sophie? Someone’s here to see you.”
Sophie looked up, and the pencil fell from her hand.
Anatomy
I tried to move, but my knees locked. “Sophie.”
She stood so fast her chair tipped backward, then stopped halfway to me.
That pause broke something in me.
Her eyes filled with fear. “Are you mad at me?”
I crossed the room, then stopped. Mark had made too many choices for her already.
Her chin trembled. “Daddy said you needed time.”
“I never needed time,” I said. “I needed you.”
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“He said seeing me like this would hurt you.”
I dropped to my knees. “I was already hurt, sweetheart, because I couldn’t find you.”
She covered her mouth. “I ruined your surprise. I fell, Daddy cried, and I thought you’d hate the cabin.”
Denise handed me the wooden sign.
I held it out.
Sophie stared at the uneven letters.
“Mom’s Lake House.”
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“You didn’t ruin anything,” I said. “You’re the best part of every surprise I ever got.”
Then she ran to me.
I caught her and held on.
“I looked for you every day,” I whispered.
“I asked for you,” she cried.
“Daddy said not yet.”
“Why?”
I closed my eyes. “Because grown-ups can make terrible choices when they’re afraid. But that doesn’t make it okay.”
She pulled back. “Do I have to see him?”
“Not until you want to. And not alone.”
Later, Mark was allowed in with the counselor present.
I sat beside Sophie, her hand locked around mine.
Anatomy
