“We can prove you were at work.”
“Can we?”
Silence.
I stared at the television.
“What?”
Mercer spoke carefully.
“The grocery store’s old camera system overwrites footage every thirty days.”
My skin turned cold.
“But my timecard—”
“Shows when you clocked out. Not where you were during your shift.”
“I was there.”
“I believe you.”
“Customers saw me.”
“We’ll find them.”
But Howard had planted the question.
That was enough.
The next two days became hell.
Child services scheduled another emergency review.
My landlord received calls.
My manager asked me to stay home until “the attention died down.”
At the hearing, Howard’s attorney argued that Vicky should temporarily be placed with a foster family because both proposed guardians were now connected to an active criminal investigation.
I thought I was going to lose her.
Then Vicky did something nobody expected.
She stood.
Her tiny chair made a squeaking sound.
“Can I say something?”
