The Perfect Child

by Berry, Lucinda

  “I did.”

  “And you felt the best placement continued to be with Allison?” Ron asked.

  “Yes. That’s why I called her.”

  I knew they had that record. Everyone did. Besides, I had nothing to hide.

  I had called Allison immediately after I’d gotten off the phone with Christopher. I’d known from her voice that the decision had been set in stone before I had said anything. She hadn’t wasted any time on small talk.

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re calling for Christopher, and I wish I could keep the kids, but I just can’t. Greg leaves on Friday, and he’ll be gone for ten days on business. I was hoping Janie would’ve settled down by the time he left, but her behavior keeps getting worse. I have to watch her like a hawk and can’t leave her alone with my boys, which makes it almost impossible to take care of Cole.”

  The last part had taken me by surprise. “You don’t leave the boys alone with her? How come?” I asked.

  “Hannah didn’t tell you?”

  “I haven’t seen them much since the adoption was complete. Technically, I’m on the case until the end of the year, but I haven’t had an active role since we got the birth certificate.”

  “Oh . . . okay . . . well, I don’t leave her alone with the boys. Ever.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  She’d lowered her voice. “She tried to be sexually inappropriate with them. My mom caught her. Who knows what else would’ve happened if she hadn’t.”

  Nobody had said anything about it.

  “I can only do this if Greg is here. Once he’s gone, there’s no way to keep an eye on her at all times and manage the other kids.” She’d let out an exasperated sigh. “Normally, my mom would be able to help out, but my dad just took a bad fall, so she has to take care of him. Did Christopher tell you that?”

  “He did.”

  “If I knew for sure that it would only be another week, I would do it, but that’s what you said the last time, and look where we are. I’m sorry, Piper. I really am. But I have to look out for my family too. I can’t let my boys get lost in this.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I get it. Taking on two other kids is a huge responsibility, especially kids who’ve gone through so much,” I’d said.

  “What happens to them now?”

  “They’ll go into emergency foster care until they’re returned to Christopher.”

  She’d been silent. My last shred of hope had vanished when the threat of foster care hadn’t changed her mind.

  “How is Janie doing?” I had asked. “Christopher said she had a really hard time when he left tonight.”

  “She’s fine now. As soon as I got off the phone with Christopher, she turned down the hysterics.” She’d paused before continuing. “She’s only worried about Christopher. She never asks about Hannah. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

  “She’s young. Who knows what she understands about what’s happening. Or maybe she’s denying the whole thing.”

  “I just think it’s weird after, well . . . you know . . .”

  “I’m sure she talks about it in her sessions with Dr. Chandler.” I hadn’t had time to get into it. “Look, Allison, I’ve got to run. Thanks so much for helping out.”

  I’d been on my phone the rest of the night calling in every owed favor, hoping for a miracle. I’d even had a lawyer friend talk to the judge, but nothing had worked. There’d been no way the Bauer kids would be allowed home without a hearing, and it would be another week before it would happen. Maybe two. Christopher had been my last call.

  “They can’t go into foster care, Piper. They can’t.” His voice had wavered with emotion.

  “I’m sorry, Christopher. I wish there was something I could do, but my hands are tied. They can’t stay at Allison’s, and they can’t come home. The only option is emergency foster care.” I had tried to find a silver lining. “Not all foster homes are terrible. Some of them are really good. Look at you guys. They might end up with someone like you.”

  “Why don’t you take them?”

  I had laughed. “Me?”

  “Why not? Are you certified to take in foster kids?”

  “Technically, I could, but it’s frowned on, and I never have before,” I’d said.

  I’d worked with hundreds of children, and I’d never once thought of taking one of them home with me. Most of my colleagues made comments about wanting to do it, but I had never liked the idea of having kids in my home. It was one of the reasons I didn’t have them.

  “Would you do it? Please, could you do it for us?” He’d never sounded so desperate.

  “I don’t know, Christopher.”

  He’d jumped in before I could say no. “Janie knows you, so at least you’re not a stranger. And if anyone can handle her right now, it’s you, Piper. Please. You don’t have to decide tonight. You can think about it for two days since we have until Friday. Just think about it, okay? Promise me you’ll think about it?”

  I’d called him in the morning before I’d had my first cup of coffee because I’d known he’d be anxiously waiting for my call. I hadn’t wanted to take the kids but couldn’t bear the thought of saying no to Christopher. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing I could’ve done something to ease his burden and chose not to. Surprisingly, his phone had gone straight to his voice mail. I had left him a message to call me whenever he got the chance. I’d been halfway to my first appointment when he’d returned my call. His voice had been even more frantic than the day before.

  “Piper? Where are you?”

  “Driving to a home visit. What’s going on?”

  “It’s Allison. She—”

  I had interrupted him. “You don’t have to worry about Allison. I’ll take the kids until the hearing. I can come get them this afternoon.”

  “You have to come now.”

  “What? No. I can’t. I have an appointment. They will be fine there until this afternoon. Allison said they could be there until Friday.”

  “Now, Piper. You have to go there now. Please.”

  “Christopher, what’s going on?”

  His voice had broken. “It’s Allison. You have to come. It’s Allison.” He’d let out a sob. “She’s dead.”

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHRISTOPHER BAUER

  “What are you doing here?” Hannah asked. She grew more and more coherent every day, and it wasn’t lost on her that I was there outside of visiting hours. They’d finally found a medication combination that worked, one that muted her psychosis without turning her into a zombie. Her eyes were still lifeless from grief, but they were no longer dead from the drugs they’d been pumping into her.

  “I have something to tell you,” I said. They’d allowed me to see her given the circumstances. I rubbed my hands anxiously up and down my face. I hated to be the one to tell her about Allison, but the thought of the police telling her was worse. “It’s awful.”

  She pointed to the barren walls around her. “What could be worse than what I did to get here?”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m so sorry.” I fought for composure.

  She took my hand from across the table. “I understand, Christopher. I do.” She rubbed the top of my hand like she used to. Those days felt like a lifetime ago. “I wouldn’t be able to stay with me either. Not after what I’ve done, who I’ve become.”

  I’d give anything to be breaking divorce news to her instead of what I was about to do. I felt so much responsibility for the moment of telling her. When she looked back on things, she’d remember everything I’d said, how I’d said it, and probably hate me for it. I thought about the scripts they taught us in medical school, the coined phrases to use when telling someone a family member or loved one had died:

  I’m so sorry. We did everything we could, but he didn’t make it.

  Despite our best efforts, we weren’t able to save her.

  I flipped through all of them. None of them were appropriate. None of them would lessen the bomb I w
as about to drop on her already-fragile self. I couldn’t believe I was the one breaking her heart another time.

  “Christopher, what’s going on?” Her face was stricken.

  My stomach churned. The room spun. My heart hammered in my chest.

  “It’s Allison . . .” I couldn’t get any further.

  Her eyes widened instantly. “What about Allison?”

  “Something terrible happened.”

  “Is she okay?”

  I shook my head.

  She jerked her hand away and pushed her chair back from the table. “What happened?”

  How could I? How would she ever find the strength to go on?

  “Christopher, what happened?”

  “She’s dead.”

  My words splintered inside her. I saw it happening. Her hands clutched her shirt, pulling on it. She shook her head frantically, staggering backward into the wall like she’d been hit.

  “No. No. No.” Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper.

  “I’m so sorry.” It was all I could say, over and over again.

  “How?”

  I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “She fell down the stairs. It was a terrible accident.”

  “Down the stairs? How do you die falling down the stairs?” Her voice shook.

  “Her neck snapped on the landing.”

  Her face paled. She covered her mouth with her hand. I stood and stepped toward her cautiously. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Stop saying that. Please stop saying that,” she cried.

  “I don’t know what to say. What to do . . .” My voice trailed off. There were no words left. Nothing that could make this better. She sank to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest. I slid down next to her.

  “I don’t understand. What happened?”

  “I told you. She fell.”

  “But how? How did she fall down the stairs?”

  I shrugged. “The police are at the house now.”

  She snapped her head up, locking eyes with me. “Why are the police there? I thought it was an accident.”

  “It was. It is.”

  “Who found her?”

  “I don’t know why any of this matters right now. It’s only going to upset you more.”

  “It matters to me.” Her jaw was set with determination.

  “Caleb.”

  “That poor thing. What about Dylan? Where was Janie?” Her brain raced to connect the dots, the questions tumbling over each other. “Was Greg home?”

  I put my hands up to stop her. “Hannah, no. Not now. I can’t. It won’t help things.”

  “You’re hiding something. I can tell.” Her eyes narrowed. “I can see it in your eyes. What are you hiding?”

  I shook my head.

  She sprang up from the floor and shook her finger at me. “Yes, you are, Christopher. You’re lying to me about something. I can tell.”

  I shook my head again. The truth would only make it worse. “You—”

  She clenched her fists together at her sides, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Tell me what happened to Allison.” I took her hands in mine. She jerked away and moved to stand behind the table. “Tell. Me. Now.”

  I struggled to gain control of my voice. “Janie overheard Allison telling Piper that she couldn’t stay there any longer. She was really angry, and they got into a fight after Allison got off the phone.” I paused, struggling to speak the words. “It looks like there was an altercation on the top of the stairs and Allison fell.”

  Hannah let out a howl. She picked up a chair and threw it against the wall. “I should’ve killed her! I should’ve killed her!”

  The orderly outside the door rushed into the room and pressed a button on the wall. She tried to grab Hannah, but Hannah shoved her away. The nurse flew back, hitting the wall behind her.

  “She’s a monster! I should’ve killed her!” Her eyes were wide open—manic. Spit was flung from her mouth as she screamed. Her entire body shook.

  Two huge men rushed into the room. She clawed at her neck, raking her hands against it like she wanted to tear off her skin. They each grabbed one arm to keep her from hurting herself. She writhed with incredible strength. Her grief and anger had turned her into a beast. It took both of them to wrestle her to the floor, pinning her arms behind her back. That was when she unleashed the most primal screams I’d ever heard. They echoed down the hallway as they carried her away.

  CASE #5243

  INTERVIEW:

  PIPER GOLDSTEIN

  “Were you there for the altercation after the funeral?” Ron asked.

  I nodded. I had gone to Allison’s visitation to pay my obligatory respects even though I hated being in the house of someone who had just died. I had since my uncle had passed away when I was nine. I didn’t like the way the house filled with people aimlessly moving from room to room like there was anywhere to go or how everyone was afraid to talk loudly, so it sounded like a steady hum of insects. Allison’s house was no different that day.

  Luke raised his eyebrows. “Do social workers usually go to funerals for the relatives of their clients?”

  Of course we didn’t. He knew that as well as I did, but the Bauers were like family. I ignored him and kept my attention focused on Ron.

  “What was Greg like before the altercation?” Ron asked.

  “He was a wreck,” I said.

  I’d never seen a man cry like he had. There was something especially devastating about watching a man fall apart. He had sat at the dining room table with his head buried in his hands as his shoulders had shaken. His sobs had been deep, guttural. His family had surrounded him.

  “And the Bauers? How were they?”

  “They weren’t doing much better. Hannah had gotten a day pass from the hospital, but I’m not sure it was the best thing for her. She was so racked with grief she could barely stand.”

  Christopher had found her a chair in the living room, and I had made a beeline for them. It was one of the few times I’d ever seen them without the kids. I’d helped check Janie into New Horizons yesterday, the residential treatment center that Dr. Chandler had gotten her into. The waiting list was one of the longest in the country since they were one of the few private facilities that treated children under eight, but Dr. Chandler had done her fellowship with the new director, so he’d found Janie a bed once Dr. Chandler had told him about her situation. I’d arranged for Cole to stay with Christopher’s mom.

  I’d laid my hand on Hannah’s knee. “I’m so sorry,” I had said.

  “This is a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. I keep thinking that it’s not happening.” The full weight of despair had shone on her face. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  I had put my arms around Hannah. Her body had been rigid and stiff, full of unspent emotion. Words had failed me. She’d been right. In all my twenty years of work, I’d never seen anything like this. I probably never would again. The case haunted me in ways I’d never imagined.

  “What set Greg off?” Luke asked, bringing me back to the present.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure anyone knows. One minute he was crying in the other room, and the next minute he was lunging at Christopher and Hannah.”

  “He wanted to fight them?”

  I shook my head. “He wanted them out of his house. He kept screaming that it was their fault Allison had died.”

  Ron held up a nanny cam. “He’d seen this?”

  “He had.”

  We’d all seen it by now. It was set up above the fireplace in their basement and provided a full view of the stairs, ending at the landing. There wasn’t any sound, but you could tell by Allison’s and Janie’s movements that they were fighting, even though you couldn’t see their faces. They scurried back and forth across the screen. There was a split second when Janie’s feet rushed forward, and in the next, Allison plummeted down the stairs. She lay on the bottom, all her last moments captured in painful detail. Janie’s feet never moved from their spot—not for seven mi
nutes and thirty-two seconds.

  FIFTY-NINE

  CHRISTOPHER BAUER

  I hadn’t realized when they’d referred to New Horizons as a residential home for emotionally disturbed youth that it would look like a big house. I parked in a driveway behind a wooden gate. Trees dotted the property. A concrete sidewalk wove up to the front door, cutting through perfectly manicured grass. The house was nondescript, made of smooth gray concrete that gave no clue to what was hidden behind the door.

  Flowers lined the porch, and there was an old-fashioned swing on one end. I took a moment to compose myself so I could give all my attention to Janie. I was still trying to shake my conversation from earlier this morning. The director of the Department of Children’s Services had called and informed me Piper was no longer going to be Janie’s social worker and was being replaced with someone named Elaine, effective immediately. She’d refused to say why, only that switching social workers was common and we were lucky to have been with the same one for so long. But I could tell by Piper’s voice when I had called her afterward that she was lying when she said it didn’t mean anything and that it happened all the time. She’d had no idea she’d been removed from Janie’s case.

  Normally, I would have debated the scenario with Hannah, but we didn’t debate much of anything these days. I hated what all of this had done to her, and the medication only made things worse. It was her fifth day home, and she moved through each one like she was sleepwalking. Her doctors assured me it was only a matter of time before she was herself again, but she was forever changed.

  She’d chopped her hair into a short bob framing her chin, and it made her look less skeletal. There was finally life in her skin again. But the way she carried herself had changed too. Her eyes bore the weight of what she’d been through; she seemed more like a soldier who’d been to war and returned home.

  I took a deep breath and lifted my hand to knock, but a large woman wearing a flowing printed skirt opened the front door and stepped outside before I made contact with the wood.