41
At this point, all Audra could do was hope. She assured herself that the worst wasn’t yet to come. But she knew better, even before she opened her front door to the two uniformed men.
“Good afternoon,” said the one on the right. He was pale skinned, with a slight crook in his nose. “I’m Officer Hall and this is Officer Ramirez.” The sturdy Hispanic-looking man tipped his hat.
“Hello,” she said.
“Ma’am, are you Audra Hughes?” Officer Hall continued with the lead.
“I am.”
“Ms. Hughes, we’re stopping by today because a citizen called, saying they’ve heard a child screaming from your residence on several occasions.”
A neighbor. It had to be—though Audra could only guess which one. Their encounters had never surpassed a trade of courteous smiles.
Why hadn’t she thought of it before? There would be no basis for anyone here to presume Jack’s frequent screeches of “help me” and “let me out” merely resulted from his dreams.
“That’s totally my fault,” she admitted. “My son’s been having horrible nightmares. The walls aren’t the thickest here. I really should’ve let the residents around us know.”
“Could I ask who’s in your apartment today?”
Thrown off, Audra took a moment to reply. “Just me and my son, Jack. I’m a single mom.”
“Is your son around right now?”
“Well, yes. He’s in the kitchen.”
Officer Ramirez looked past her shoulder and spoke for the first time. “Afternoon, sir.”
Audra turned to find Sean approaching. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
Oh, God. She’d forgotten he was here.
“I’m sorry,” she said to the officers. “I should’ve remembered—this is Sean Malloy. He’s ... a friend of ours. He’s just visiting. For the day.” Although she had told Sean of the night terrors, having this unfurl in his presence magnified her embarrassment. Unfortunately, inviting him to leave could suggest to the policemen that she’d been hiding him on purpose.
Officer Hall resumed his mission in a distressingly genial tone. “Ma’am, we’d just like to check on your son real quick, make sure there’s no concern. Then we can get out of your hair and let you enjoy your weekend.”
“Sure. That’s—fine.” She tried not to stammer. “Jack? Could you come over here, please?”
“Would you mind if we came inside?” Officer Hall asked.
“No. No, please do.” She backed up to let them through and closed the door, right as Jack arrived in the entryway. His sleeves were pulled up a few inches, the cuffs dampened from washing at the sink.
The second officer angled toward Jack. “Hi there. I’m Officer Ramirez.” Beneath the warmth of his smile, he had to be scanning, assessing. “Is your name Jack?”
Jack nodded.
Officer Ramirez then looked at Audra. “Would it be all right if I talk to Jack in his room for a moment while you talk to Officer Hall?”
“Yes. Of course.” She put on a smile to help ease Jack’s puzzlement. “Baby, these policemen are just here to make sure you’re safe. Why don’t you show Officer Ramirez your room ... so he can ... see your bombers?”
She was trying to keep things casual, and immediately regretted the mention of an armed weapon. “I just mean your old warplanes, the models. Like in your dreams.” Now she sounded as if she was prompting his answers, demanding he confirm her claim of nightmares.
No doubt Officer Ramirez, too, was considering the possibility, but his animated tone masked the thought. “You’ve got model airplanes in your room?” he said to Jack. “You know, I used to paint them with my grandpa. Ships too, but the planes were my favorites.” He exuded the experience of a father, making clear that in these situations he was the one assigned to the kids. “How about we take a look, little man?”
Jack paused for only a second before nodding again. As he led the officer away, Audra recalled the state of Jack’s room. The explosion of toys and clothes and bedding didn’t suggest an ideal environment. Small quivers reverberated in Audra’s knees.
“Would you care to sit down?” she asked, and was relieved Officer Hall agreed.
Sean gave her a look and motioned to the door: Do you want me to leave?
She tightly shook her head.
Though still confused, he nodded and followed.
In the living room, Audra and Sean sat on the couch with appropriate space between them. The officer sat on the sofa chair and pulled out a small notepad. He jotted down the names and birthdates of everyone there, formalities required for a report.
“Ma’am, I noticed your son’s got a cast on his arm. Could you tell me what that’s from?”
“I’d be glad to,” she said, eager to explain. She also sensed that volunteering too much too fast could come off as scripted. “You see, a few weeks ago, he was having a night terror—that’s what the doctor at the ER called them.” She hoped the term had been recorded in Jack’s medical file. “The dreams cause him to flail around a lot, and that’s how his arm hit the dresser. Since then, I’ve done a better job of holding on to him to keep him from hurting himself. But he does get some bruises that way.”
“Excuse me, Officer,” Sean interjected, appearing to comprehend the nature of the exchange. “If you’re trying to find out if Audra’s an abusive mother, I can tell you right now, there’s not a chance. The kid really does have physically violent dreams.”
“Have you seen these yourself, sir?”
“Well ... no. I haven’t.”
“Have you spent much time with the family?”
“No, not much. But we just met recently.”
The officer nodded, wrote on his pad.
“Sean, it’s all right,” Audra said quietly. He was trying to help, a former news producer taking the lead, but could end up making things worse.
Officer Hall again addressed Audra. “Is there anyone professional you’re seeing, to help your son with these episodes?”
She perked at this. “Yes. We’ve been seeing the counselor at his school. His name’s Dr. Shaw.” Never had she been more grateful for sessions with any therapist.
“That’s good to hear. I’m sure that’ll be helpful.”
The topic led her back to evaluations for custody. She debated on bringing up the case, afraid the officers might somehow find out and make a note of her omission. But then Officer Ramirez emerged from Jack’s bedroom—without Jack.
“Ms. Hughes,” he said, “I was wondering if you could tell me where your son’s injuries came from?”
Officer Hall had heard everything yet didn’t say a word.
She swallowed, realizing what was happening. They were comparing stories, looking for discrepancies. She calmly repeated her explanation. When she finished, Officer Ramirez asked, “Would you mind if I took a peek at your son’s chest and back? Just to be thorough.”
His request held all the lightness of a search for freckles, not signs of parental cruelty.
“That’d be fine.”
“Great. Could I also snap a few photos of any injuries? The more detailed we are, the less chance we’ll need to come back again.”
She nodded her consent. Would any wise person actually say no?
He turned with a half smile and proceeded to Jack’s room.
Officer Hall went on with basic questions, perhaps a way to fill the time. Audra answered each one, all while imagining the scene beyond the wall. She saw the birthmark that could be viewed as a scar from a cigarette burn. She saw the scuffs on Jack’s knee from the boulder at the park. And in her head, she could hear the explanation she had suggested he relay at school.
My mom told me to say I got hurt from my nightmares, if any of my teachers ask.
Mandatory reporting might otherwise have led staff members to call a child abuse hotline. Audra had encouraged Jack’s answer as a proactive measure, to prevent any more suspicions. A measure that now could backfire.
Finally Officer Ramirez returned, this time with her son. “I think we’re all set, ma’am.”
Officer Hall stood, putting the notepad in his back pocket. “Thanks for allowing us to take up your time, Ms. Hughes.”
“Of course.” She and Sean simultaneously rose, although only Audra walked the officers to the door. Once they were gone, the quivers in her knees moved to her hands. She placed them on Jack’s shoulders and knelt to eye level. “I am so sorry about that, Jack.”
He scrunched his brow, not seeing a reason for her apology.
For that alone, an urge to cry mounted inside. She drew Jack into her arms, holding him tight, and resisted the notion of ever letting go.