The Perfect Child

by Berry, Lucinda

  It was our wedding album—the one we’d lovingly put together after we’d gotten back from our honeymoon. The first page was our engagement photo, taken by a professional photographer; it was the one we’d used on our “save the date” cards. We were in front of the café where we’d had our first date with our arms wrapped around each other. I stared in horror at Hannah’s scratched-out face. I flipped to the next page. It was the same thing. My smile shone from the pages, while Hannah’s face was destroyed. Janie had used black crayons on some of the pictures to make a big X on her face. Others were just scratched out.

  Hannah grabbed pictures off the bed, all of them ripped up and torn. “There’s more. All of this. Do you know how long it must’ve taken her to do this?” She slapped them dramatically back on the bed one by one. “And look.” Her hand shook as she pointed to a different set of pictures on the bed.

  I looked down at the spread of pictures I’d printed out a few weeks earlier—the ones I’d taken in the hospital of Cole and his first day home. His face was as destroyed as Hannah’s. Any doubts I had about sending Janie to residential treatment vanished.

  Hannah threw the scraps of pictures on the bed and collapsed on the floor in tears. I sat next to her and held her. The bones poked out from underneath her shirt.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I said in my most soothing voice. “She’s not going to live with us for a while.”

  FORTY-SIX

  HANNAH BAUER

  Christopher’s eyes peered into mine. “Where’s Janie?”

  I rubbed my eyes. I must’ve fallen asleep. Cole stirred next to me. What time was it?

  He shook my shoulder. “Where is she?”

  My heart pounded. He wasn’t supposed to be home yet. I hadn’t had time to clean up.

  “In her room.”

  He stopped in his tracks when he got to her closed door and noticed the alarm was engaged. “She’s in here? We agreed if I put the locks on the door that we would only use them at night.”

  I didn’t dare tell him I’d been doing it for weeks. It was the only way I felt safe. Instead, I said nothing and waited for him to unlock the door.

  “Oh my God,” I heard him exclaim.

  Janie must have smeared her feces again. I walked over to join him and stood in the doorway. This time it was on the walls. She’d finger painted with her own poop. Christopher stared, taking it all in—Janie naked in the center of the room surrounded by toys, her food smashed all around her, empty juice boxes and broken toys.

  Christopher turned to look at me, the reality registering on his face. “Do you leave her in here all day?”

  I nodded.

  “Wh—what? I don’t . . . I don’t understand . . .”

  “I clean everything up before you get home.” I was surprised he hadn’t smelled the poop whenever he was in there. Her room permanently smelled foul no matter how hard I scrubbed.

  “How long has this been going on? How long?” His fists were clenched at his sides.

  “Ever since she killed Blue.”

  He came at me, his face contorted in anger. “How could you? How could you do this to her? After everything she’s been through?”

  “How could I?” I pointed to her. “She’s evil. That’s what her grandmother said. Remember? She said we didn’t know how terrible she was. Did you ever think that’s why her mother had to lock her up like an animal? It’s because she is one!”

  I saw the pink blur of his hand as he slapped my face. My skin stung as my teeth cut through the soft, wet flesh of my mouth. My head jerked back. I stumbled from the force of it, bringing my hand up and pressing it against the sting, shocked.

  Janie let out a piercing shriek.

  Christopher’s eyes filled with horror. He came toward me again. I backed up. “Don’t.” I held my hand up. “Just don’t.”

  CASE #5243

  INTERVIEW:

  PIPER GOLDSTEIN

  Luke slapped the picture on the table. “What kind of a husband does this?”

  Who had told them about the incident? I knew the way they would look at Christopher now—the same way I looked at men who hit women.

  “He only hit her that one time.”

  “Let me guess—he’d never hit a woman before?” He couldn’t keep the disgust off his face.

  I hung my head like I was the one who’d been hit. “Yes.”

  “And he was so ashamed, right? Promised to never do it again? Probably even brought her some beautiful flowers too.” He snorted. “Seriously. You know better than that.”

  He was right. I couldn’t deny it. Men didn’t hit women no matter what. Period. It didn’t matter if a woman was beating up on a man—he took the hits. There was nothing that justified hitting a woman. It was what I taught perpetrators in all of my domestic violence education classes.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  CHRISTOPHER BAUER

  I was doing my best to calm down on the short drive to the house. A few minutes ago, Hannah had called me while hysterical again. I couldn’t understand anything she was saying because she was sobbing incoherently. There were few words, mostly just sounds. I was so tired of leaving work to calm things down between Hannah and Janie. Dr. Chandler had put Janie’s name on the waiting list for a place called New Horizons, but she’d said it could take weeks. I didn’t know what I was going to do until then. I hadn’t even bothered giving Dan an excuse this time.

  It’d been three days, and we hadn’t talked about what had happened. I couldn’t believe I’d slapped Hannah. I’d never laid a hand on a woman. Ever. I wasn’t that kind of man. I had just reacted. I would never look at myself the same way, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize, even though I knew it was the right thing to do.

  The house was still when I walked inside.

  “Hannah?”

  No answer.

  “Janie?”

  Nothing.

  I walked through the living room and into the hallway. It was eerily quiet. I checked in both bedrooms, but they were empty. The bathroom door at the end of the hallway was ajar. Something was wrong. I could feel it. I rushed down the hallway and into the bathroom, throwing open the door.

  Hannah sat in front of the bathtub with her feet straight out, holding Cole’s body against her chest and staring into space. Janie was on the other side of the room against the wall, rocking with her legs pulled up to her chest. Her clothes were drenched. Why was she soaked? I looked back and forth between the two of them.

  “Hannah?” I said cautiously, taking a step toward her.

  She didn’t even blink.

  “Hannah?”

  Nothing.

  I moved toward Janie. “What’s going on?”

  Janie looked up and started crying immediately. Heaving sobs shook her body. I walked over and put my arms around her. She crumpled in my arms, her body trembling.

  Hannah sprang to life. “Get away from her! Get away! She’ll infect you with her evil. It’s everywhere. Her evil is everywhere.”

  “Hannah, stop. Enough. Sit down,” I ordered.

  She inched her way across the tiled floor, never letting go of the baby. “Cole. My baby Cole.” She started sobbing. Her wails joined Janie’s and reverberated off the bathroom walls.

  I scooped Janie up and carried her over to Hannah. I crouched next to them. That’s when I looked at Cole’s face. His eyes were open wide and unblinking. His lips were blue.

  “Oh my God, what’s wrong with him?”

  “My baby. My baby Cole.” Hannah only sobbed harder.

  “Give me the baby.” I tried to grab him, but she jerked away.

  She hugged him closer to her. “My baby. My baby Cole.”

  I grabbed her and pulled her toward me as she struggled against me. She tried to hold on, but I pried him out of her arms. His body was cold. His chest wasn’t moving. I set him on the floor, felt for a pulse. No heartbeat. I pushed on his small chest with my two fingers.

  “Call 911! Call 911!” I didn’t reco
gnize the sound of my voice.

  Breathe. One. Two.

  Breathe. One. Two.

  I pushed on his chest again.

  “Hannah!”

  She sat motionless while Janie sprang into action. She sprinted out of the bathroom and came running back with Hannah’s phone. She handed it to me. No way I was stopping CPR. I tossed it to Hannah. She missed, and it clattered to the floor.

  “Hannah! Hannah!”

  She picked up the phone, still moving slowly. “I can’t. I don’t know. I can’t.”

  “Call 911!” I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, holding back the urge to smack her again. “Do you hear me? Call 911!”

  CASE #5243

  INTERVIEW:

  PIPER GOLDSTEIN

  Why did we have to talk about everything? Couldn’t they just read all the medical reports? The clinical case summaries? It was all there, written down in black and white. I didn’t know why the words had to come out of my mouth.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about those days. I couldn’t stop thinking about them. I ran through them like movie clips playing out over and over again, always starting with my trip to the hospital.

  I had recognized the nurse at the nurse’s station from one of my previous cases. She’d been busy typing into her computer when I had approached her.

  I had cleared my throat. “Excuse me.”

  She’d looked up. She had a long, narrow face and dark hair tucked behind her ears.

  I had flashed her my badge. “I’m here to see Cole Bauer.”

  She’d pointed to the narrow hallway on her right. “He’s in room 10E.”

  “Thanks,” I’d said, but she’d already gone back to what she had been doing before I had interrupted her.

  It didn’t matter how many times I’d been in the NICU; each visit felt like walking onto another planet. Time crawled underneath constant movement and manic activity. I had steeled myself for what I’d find. All I had known from the file was that there’d been a terrible accident at their home. Nothing more. I had knocked before pushing through the door.

  The telltale Isolette with its hard plastic walls and holes on the side had stood in the center of the room. Thin, flexible tubes had wound in and out of the small bed, attaching themselves to various monitors. The ventilator had moved up and down, breathing for him. Not a good sign. I hadn’t wanted to look at him. For now, I hadn’t had to because there had been nurses scuttling around him, and I would’ve been in the way, so I had gratefully stepped aside to let them do their work.

  Hannah had sat in a vinyl recliner next to the bed, clutching a blanket to her chest. Christopher had stood rigid next to the chair, his arm on her shoulder. He had looked up when he had seen me, his face white. Tunnels of emotion in his eyes. I’d just nodded. There weren’t any words. I had knelt in front of Hannah and placed my hands on her knees. She hadn’t blinked. My presence hadn’t registered.

  “Hannah?” I had prompted.

  Still nothing.

  “They had to sedate her with something because she wouldn’t stop screaming. She’s in shock,” Christopher had explained. “She’s been sitting like that for the last hour. Barely talks. Won’t move.”

  I had tilted my head in the direction of the bed, still too afraid to look. “How is he?”

  His manner had been clenched and rigid as he had desperately tried to keep it together. “Alive. That’s about all they know for now.”

  “What happened?”

  His Adam’s apple had moved up and down with the emotions caught in his throat. “I’m not sure. I ju—just . . . I can’t—”

  I had put my hand on his back. “Don’t worry about it. We can talk later.”

  We had stood together, watching the nurses work and listening to Cole’s machines beep. The room had felt even smaller with all of us in it.

  “Where’s Janie?” I had asked.

  Christopher had frantically shaken his head, then looked at Hannah and mouthed the word no. I had looked at him in confusion, but he’d just done it again. I had stood quietly next to them until the hospital case worker had knocked on the door and asked to meet with me outside. I had stepped into the hallway, shutting the door tightly behind me.

  She’d looked fresh out of college, like she might’ve just taken her licensing exam last week. She had a rounded, heart-shaped face under pulled-back dark hair. Her lips had been thin and compressed by thought. She’d looked quiet—not mousy quiet, just pensive. She had moved the iPad she carried underneath her left arm and stuck out her right. “I’m Holly.”

  I had shaken her hand. “Piper. Nice to meet you.”

  She had taken a few steps away from the door just in case Hannah and Christopher might overhear, and I had followed. We had stood in front of one of the food carts waiting for someone to take the empty trays down to the kitchen. The smell of old food had wafted up my nose.

  “I’m the social worker assigned to Cole and Janie’s case,” she had said, even though it went without saying.

  “Where is Janie?” I had asked.

  “She’s on the fourth floor with her aunt.”

  I had nodded and waited for her to continue.

  “I don’t want to waste time giving you details that you already know, so why don’t you let me know what you know, and I can fill in any of the gaps.” Her green eyes had been piercing and intense.

  I had smiled, trying to ease some of the tension. “Honestly, I didn’t even know they had a baby, so I’m a bit out of the loop. I was really involved in their lives for a long time but haven’t been since the adoption was final. I thought things were going well.”

  “Hmmm . . .” She had looked down at her iPad. “It looks like things have been bad for a while. They’ve been in the emergency room twice before this?”

  “Yes, but both those incidents were accidents.”

  Her face had filled with doubt. I would’ve thought the same thing if I’d only read the files, but I knew the Bauers.

  “Have you spoken with them recently?” she’d asked.

  I’d shaken my head. “Can you fill me in on what’s happening?”

  “That’s really what we’re trying to figure out. The paramedics were called to the house around eleven this morning. The father was performing CPR on the infant when they arrived. There was a faint heartbeat, but the baby was unresponsive. He was intubated and brought here. We are still waiting for the results of his CT scan.”

  I’d read all that in his chart. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t already known. “Yes, but what happened?”

  She had hesitated, as if it had been some kind of secret.

  I had raised my hands, open palmed. “Look, I’m not sure you’re aware, so I just want to be really clear with you—we are on the same team. I want what’s best for these kids as much as you do.”

  Her face had flushed with embarrassment. “That’s not it.”

  I had raised my eyebrows. “Really? It sure feels like it.”

  She had shaken her head. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I’ve never worked on a case this serious before.” She’d dropped her voice to a whisper. “I just want to make sure I don’t do anything wrong.”

  I’d smiled. She was new, really new. “I’ve been exactly where you are. So why don’t you take me through what you know, and we can start working on this thing together?”

  She’d smiled back. The intensity had lessened. “Cole suffered a head injury. They’re worried there might be blood on his brain, so they ordered the CT scan. The doctors aren’t sure if he was shaken or if he fell.”

  “But they’re positive it’s a head injury?”

  She had nodded. “He has a soft, swollen spot on the side of his head. There’s also pinkish fluid draining from his ears.”

  My stomach had flipped. “I still don’t get it. Why is there all this confusion over what happened? What do Christopher and Hannah have to say about it?”

  Her brow had furrowed. “That’s the thing. C
hristopher wasn’t there when it happened. It was only Hannah and the kids.”

  “So what does Hannah say?”

  “She’s not talking.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  She had shrugged. “Christopher found them all in the bathroom. The tub was full of water, and everyone was soaked. He says Hannah was incoherent when he got there and started screaming when the paramedics arrived. The paramedics didn’t even let her ride with them in the ambulance because she was such a mess. She created a scene when they got to the hospital, and that’s when the doctors gave her Valium to settle her down. They weren’t going to let her into the NICU otherwise.”

  None of what she had been telling me had fit with anything I knew or had experienced with Hannah.

  “Christopher doesn’t know what happened.” She’d added as an afterthought, “Or so he says.”

  “What about Janie? What happened to her?” I had asked.

  “We’re not sure about that yet either. She has a dislocated shoulder.”

  “What room is she in?”

  “Room 29c.” She had tapped her screen and scrolled through the file. “Her aunt’s name is Allison.”

  Allison’s height had surprised me since Hannah was so short, but you couldn’t miss the similarity in their faces. They had the same angular jaw and thin lips. Both had huge green eyes framed by dark lashes. She had looked stricken.

  “Hi, I’m Piper Goldstein, Janie’s social worker,” I had said, standing in the doorway of Janie’s room.

  Allison had motioned for me to come in. “Christopher texted that you were on your way up.”

  Janie had sat cross-legged on the bed. Her left shoulder had been in a blue sling. The TV had been on in front of her. I had walked over to her first. “How are you doing?” I’d asked.

  She’d looked lost. Her face had been blotchy, and snot had been dried on her face.

  “I know this is really scary for you right now, but things are going to be okay. I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  She’d nodded, her lower lip sticking out like she might start crying again at any minute.