Chapter 2 - THE FLOOR
I woke to someone telling me not to move.
Not David.
A woman.
“Sarah, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m Elise Porter, paramedic.”
The ceiling above me was still my kitchen ceiling.
I had not blacked out for long.
Emma sat several feet away wrapped in a blanket.
A uniformed deputy crouched beside her.
David was nowhere near me.
Neither was Margaret.
That gave me enough air to think.
“My daughter.”
“She’s safe.”
“David?”
“Separated.”
“Margaret?”
“Also separated.”
My pulse slowed slightly.
Elise examined my leg without moving it more than necessary.
“Where does it hurt?”
“Ankle. Up the outside.”
“Any knee pain?”
“Some.”
“Hip?”
“No.”
“Head strike?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Loss of consciousness?”
“Maybe a few seconds after we came in.”
Came in.
Who?
I tried to look toward the front door.
A broad man in a dark jacket stood there talking to another deputy.
I saw only his back.
Elise blocked my view unintentionally.
“Sarah, look at me.”
I did.
“Did your husband cause this injury?”
The kitchen seemed to stop again.
David had trained me for that question.
Bad fall.
Clumsy.
Wet floor.
Missed step.
I had used those explanations before.
Not tonight.
“Yes.”
The word came easily.
That surprised me.
Elise nodded once.
“Thank you.”
No drama.
No pity.
“Did he push you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Both hands. Hard.”
“Did you fall after?”
“Yes.”
“Any other injuries tonight?”
“My wrist.”
A bruise.
Older.
She looked.
“Tonight?”
“No.”
“How old?”
“Three days.”
“Did David cause that too?”
Emma was listening.
I looked toward her.
The deputy had given her headphones.
Good.
“Yes.”
Elise documented.
Then:
“Any chance you’re pregnant?”
“No.”
“Any medications?”
I answered.
The deputy approached after medical stabilization.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
“Sarah.”
“Sarah, I’m Deputy Marcus Hale.”
His badge said something else? No.
Hale.
I did not recognize him.
That meant the large shadow could have been him.
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
“David is outside with another officer. Margaret is in the dining room.”
“Is anyone arrested?”
“Not yet.”
I nodded.
Procedure.
Evidence.
Not wishes.
Hale looked toward Emma.
“Your daughter activated an emergency response system.”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me how she knew?”
My mouth went dry.
“Later.”
His expression sharpened.
Not suspicion.
Recognition.
“All right.”
He did not push.
That mattered.
Another deputy photographed the kitchen with consent.
The edge of the island.
My position.
Emma’s rabbit.
Margaret’s wineglass.
The emergency phone.
David’s dress shoe scuff on the floor.
I heard his voice from outside.
“She slipped.”
Of course.
Then:
“She’s been unstable lately.”
There it was.
I closed my eyes.
Hale heard too.
His expression did not change.
“Would you like to provide a statement now or after medical treatment?”
“After.”
“Good.”
No one treated delay as guilt.
Elise and another paramedic splinted my leg.
Pain made me sweat.
Emma came close.
“Mommy?”
“I’m okay.”
Elise looked at me.
I corrected myself.
“I’m hurt. But they’re helping me.”
Better.
Emma touched my cheek.
“Did I do four right?”
My throat closed.
“Yes.”
“You said four means don’t wait.”
I looked at Deputy Hale.
His eyes moved to mine.
He had heard.
I kissed Emma’s hand.
“You did exactly what I taught you.”
Then David shouted outside:
“Sarah!”
I flinched.
Hale turned.
A second deputy pushed the door closed.
David shouted again.
“You’re making a huge mistake!”
Emma buried herself against me.
Hale said:
“He will not come back in.”
I believed him.
The ambulance took me away.
Emma rode with us after the responding child advocate confirmed arrangements.
At the hospital, X-rays showed a displaced distal fibula fracture with significant ligament injury.
Not life-threatening.
Not minor.
Orthopedics reduced the joint alignment and splinted it.
Surgery might be needed after swelling decreased.
I listened.
Signed.
Asked questions.
No one called me unstable.
At 11:16 p.m., Deputy Hale returned.
David had been arrested on probable cause for domestic assault and child endangerment-related conduct after evidence and statements were reviewed.
Margaret was released pending investigation.
Then Hale placed an evidence bag on the bedside table.
Inside was David’s phone.
Not for me.
For another officer collecting devices under consent/warrant? He quickly clarified.
“This was seized incident to arrest. I’m not giving it to you.”
“Then why show me?”
“Because the lock-screen notification is relevant to something you told the dispatcher three weeks ago.”
My pulse changed.
“What notification?”
He turned the bag.
A message preview.
MOM:
SHE CANNOT GET TO FRIDAY WITHOUT SIGNING.
Friday.
Three days away.
May you like
Whatever David wanted from me had a deadline.
And apparently my broken leg had not been the first plan.
