Heather’s reaction lingered in the air, thick with tension. Her eyes darted between the investigators, James, and me, searching for an escape that didn’t exist. The room was silent except for the soft snuffles of Emery, still curled up in the crook of my arm. The CPS investigator, a stern but gentle woman with empathetic eyes, leaned forward. “Heather, is there something you need to tell us?” Heather’s shoulders sagged, and she looked at Emery, her eyes filling with tears. “It’s not what it looks like,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please, believe me.” James squeezed my hand. I could...
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