My chest heaved as I ran back over everything I’d just said in my head. Was I sounding rational? Or did my claims sound just as crazy as Madison herself?
Ellie rubbed my back as Ms. Daniels made a deephmmmsound.
“That is quite the story, Miss Mitchell. But, if I may ask, do you have any proof of these accusations?”
“I have Ellie as a witness at the club, and I have that statement from my coworker. But that’s it—somehow the texts all disappear after I read them.” I groaned as I realized how convenient that sounded.
Ms. Daniels shut her notebook. “Well, your friend here is welcome to write out a statement about the incident at the club, and you can provide me with a copy of the statement from your coworker. Other than that, all I can do is recommend that you cooperate with the investigation.”
I smiled shakily. “Yes. Of course.”
“Now—before I conduct my search, is there anything you’d like to tell me about?”
My mouth fell open. “You’re going to do it now?”
“Yes, Miss Mitchell. It’s not very effective if we give people warning before we search their homes; all searches are unannounced.Now, do you have any alcohol or drugs or other illicit substances that you want to tell me about first?”
I looked at Ellie briefly as my mind raced through my apartment. “Um … well … I haven’t had a drink in a long time, but there may be a bottle of wine or liquor somewhere in the cabinets from before I was pregnant. But that would be it.”
“Very well.” Ms. Daniels stood up and walked into the kitchen. Jenna got up out of her chair and came over to the sofa to sit on my other side.
The three of us sat there and watched as the DCS investigator opened each and every cabinet and drawer in my kitchen, removed every item, and put them on my counter. My stomach dropped when she pulled a half-full bottle of Tito’s Vodka—the item that was being rung up in the liquor store photo—out of a cabinet above my refrigerator.
The investigator’s eyes darted back and forth between me and the bottle, her brows knit together. She put it down on my kitchen table and photographed it with her phone, then added it to the pile on the counter with everything else. Jenna and Ellie squeezed my hands in moral support as a tear wound its way down my cheek.
Other than the one bottle of vodka, though, everything else in my kitchen was on the up-and-up, thank God.
Next was my bedroom. I lingered in the doorway as she searched my dresser drawers, every inch of my closet from top to bottom, and my nightstand drawers. I watched in disbelief as she emptied my dirty laundry hamper and searched the pockets of every item of clothing in it, took the lid off the back of my toilet, and even removed every air vent cover in the apartment in search of hidden contraband.
After an hour, she finally concluded her search. The only items she photographed were the bottle of vodka and the three dirty martini glasses we’d drunk our mocktails from the night before, but she made several notes in her notebook.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Mitchell,” she said as we all sat back down in the living room. “Now, what doctor do you see for your prenatal care?”
“Dr. Quinlan at the Women’s Care Clinic, on Cesar Chavez near Bernal Heights.”
“Good,” she said, looking it up on her iPad. “I see they are open on Saturdays, so please report to her office before they close today for toxicity tests, and please let them know I’ll be following up to get a copy of the results.”
I nodded glumly.
“Good day, Miss Mitchell.”
As soon as the door closed behind her, I went to my room and collapsed on my bed in a flood of tears.
Ellie came and sat next to me, rubbing my back. “Oh, Savvy, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I know it’s scary, but try not to worry too much—we both know they’re not going to find any proof at all that you’ve done anything wrong.”
Jenna sat at the foot of the bed and rubbed my leg. “Ellie’s right; it’s going to be okay, Savannah.”
I could not accept their optimism. I bawled uncontrollably for several minutes. When I finally had the strength to sit up, my eyes felt swollen and raw. “I can’t do this anymore,” I said. “I’m done. I’m done letting Madison mess with my life.”
“Okay—what does that mean, sweetie?” Ellie asked. I could hear the worry in her tone.
“I need a lawyer, guys. It’s time. But how do I get one? My credit is still frozen, and my savings is a fraction of what it used to be.”
All of a sudden Ellie’s face lit up. “Wait! My mom’s cousin is a family lawyer.”
My jaw dropped. “Really?”
“Yes! Cousin Robert! I’ll bet my mom can get him to talk to you for free. He can at least get you started with some legal advice.”
