“No one believed that either.”
Amelia’s face softened. “Someone might now.”
Gavin let out a shaky breath.
“My daughter remembered all this alone,” he said. “All these years.”
Amelia said nothing.
Sometimes silence was the only respectful answer.
A few doors down, Chloe sat in Warden Mitchell’s outer office, swinging her feet lightly above the floor. Denise sat beside her, writing carefully on a yellow legal pad.
“Can I see Daddy again?” Chloe asked.
Denise paused. “I don’t know, honey.”
“Before tonight?”
The question struck Denise harder than she expected.
She had worked with children for sixteen years. She had seen fear in many forms—loud fear, angry fear, silent fear. Chloe’s fear was different. It had grown roots. It had learned patience.
Denise set down her pen. “Chloe, what made you decide to tell him today?”
The girl looked at the cup of juice in her hands.
