Chapter 19
I hired investigators with clean licenses and cleaner methods. I funded additional legal research through Elise. I offered to cover therapy costs for the children through the appropriate channels, anonymously at first, then transparently when Maya told me anonymous generosity could complicate reporting.
“You’re used to solving problems by removing obstacles,” Maya told me over the phone.
“Is that wrong?”
“Not always. But these children are not a problem to solve.”
“I know that.”
“Then remember it when things move slowly.”
Slowly.
That word became my enemy.
Court moved slowly.
Records moved slowly.
Healing moved slowest of all.
I was allowed to visit the children after two weeks.
Supervised. One hour. A family services visitation room with a couch, a low table, a shelf of toys, and walls painted pale green.
I arrived ten minutes early and felt absurdly nervous.
Marco noticed.
“You negotiated with a prime minister last year,” he said.
“He didn’t have crayons.”
“That we know of.”
I gave him a look.
He smiled, rare and brief.
When Lily and Owen entered, they paused at the doorway.
Lily wore a lavender sweater. Owen wore sneakers with one loose lace.
Captain was there, of course.
For a second, none of us moved.
Then Lily crossed the room and hugged me.
Owen followed more slowly, pretending he was only coming to show me Captain’s new ribbon.
“It’s green,” he announced.
“I see that.”
“Ms. Paula said blue was getting sad.”
Ms. Paula was the foster mother.
“Green is a strong choice.”
“It’s Captain’s spring ribbon.”
“Of course.”
Lily climbed onto the couch beside me with a picture book. “Can you read this?”
May you like
I took it carefully.
It had been years since I had read aloud anything that did not involve contracts, legal risk, or market forecasts.
