“You think Emily can survive without him? She has no backbone.”
I looked down the hallway toward the bathroom door, where the water was still running.
“She found it tonight.”
Then I hung up and blocked the number.
The next morning, Emily came downstairs wearing one of my old sweaters. Without makeup, she looked younger and more fragile, but there was something different in her eyes. Exhaustion, yes. Fear, yes. But also a thin line of clarity.
“I need to go back to the apartment,” she said. Doors & Windows
My first instinct was to say absolutely not.
Instead, I asked, “For what?”
“My documents. Laptop. Some clothes. Dad’s watch. I don’t want Brent touching it.”
We called Officer Morales, who had given Emily her card. She explained how to request a civil standby while Emily collected essentials. By noon, two officers met us outside the apartment building in Cambridge.
Brent was still in custody awaiting arraignment. Diane was there instead.
She opened the apartment door before we even knocked, as though the place belonged to her. Behind her, I saw two suitcases open on the living room floor.
Emily stiffened.
Diane smiled coldly. “I was packing my son’s belongings before you steal anything else.”
Officer Morales stepped forward. “Ma’am, we’re here so Emily can collect her personal property.” Chicago house rental
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