Chapter 1
My daughter, Anne Charles, burst into my room in the middle of the night, crying and clutching her belly. "Mommy, there are little fish swimming in my tummy," she whimpered.
I thought she was just having a nightmare, so I checked her forehead—no fever.
But she was sweating bullets, curled up in pain.
I panicked, scooped her up, and rushed her to the hospital.
After the doctor finished his examination, his face went pale.
He didn't say a word to me. He just walked out of the room, picked up the phone, and called the police.
Two cops burst in, and the first thing they asked was, "Who usually takes care of the kid?"
My mind went blank, and I just collapsed to the floor.
*****
Anne started crying in the middle of the night.
My daughter, Anne Charles, burst into my room in the middle of the night, crying and clutching her belly. "Mommy, there are little fish swimming in my tummy," she whimpered.
I scooped her up and brought her to my bed.
I felt her forehead.
She didn't have a fever.
But her forehead was covered in cold sweat, her little face scrunched up in pain.
She was curled up tight, like a little ball.
"Anne, where does it hurt?" I asked.
"My tummy. A bunch of little fish is biting me," she sobbed.
She was crying so hard that she could barely get the words out.
I panicked.
I threw my coat around her, scooped her up, and bolted out the door.
The ER at night was eerily quiet, the lights pale and bleak.
The doctor on duty was young, his expression serious. "Get her an ultrasound, now," he said.
I carried Anne through the empty hallway.
The ultrasound machine hummed in the room.
Anne lay on the exam bed, tears clinging to her lashes. "Mommy, I'm scared," she whispered.
"Don't be afraid. Mommy's here," I said, my voice trembling.
The doctor didn't say a word, and his frown just kept getting tighter.
He kept moving the probe back and forth over Anne's belly.
The screen was filled with strange black-and-white images I couldn't make heads or tails of.
After what felt like forever, he finally finished. "Show this to the ER doctor," he said.
His tone was icy.
I rushed back to the ER with Anne in my arms.
The young doctor took the ultrasound report, glanced at it, and his face went pale.
He shot to his feet, staring at me.
He looked at me as if I were some kind of suspect, instead of a concerned parent.
He didn't explain what was wrong with Anne.
He hurried out of the room and went straight to the nurse's station.
I heard him pick up the phone. His voice was low but urgent. "Hello, 911? I need to report something.
"This is Riverdale Children's Hospital, Emergency Department.
"We have a young girl here, possible child abuse. There are foreign objects inside her."
My mind went blank.
It felt like a bomb had gone off inside my skull.
Abuse? Foreign objects?
Anne was still trembling in my arms, whimpering softly in pain.
Before I could even process what was happening, two cops burst into the room.
Their hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.
They pushed open the door to the exam room.
One of the cops shot me a look that could cut right through me, his eyes sharp as knives.
He asked, "Who usually takes care of the kid?"
My legs gave out.
Still holding Anne, I collapsed onto the cold floor.
*****
The lights in the interrogation room were even harsher and colder than the ones at the hospital.
I sat on a cold metal chair.
Anne was taken away by a nurse to get ready for surgery.
Not being able to see her left a hollow ache in my chest.
Across from me sat two cops—Jay Johnson and Warren Williams.
Jay was taking notes, while Warren was the one asking the questions.
"Name?" Warren asked.
"Sarah Sanders," I replied.
"Age?"
"Thirty."
"What's the kid's name? How old is she?"
"Anne Charles. She's five."
"What about the father?"
"Mike Charles. He's on a business trip. I already called him."
Warren set his pen down and leaned forward. "Sarah, the doctor found a bunch of magnetic beads inside Anne. Do you know what those are?"
I shook my head, my mind completely blank.
He explained, "They're a kind of kids' toy, but the government banned selling them to kids under six years old ages ago.
"If a little kid swallows them, they can tear holes in their intestines. It could kill them."
It could kill them.
That word—kill—stabbed right into my heart like an ice pick.
"I don't know. We don't have anything like that at home," I said, my voice shaking, hands trembling so badly that I could barely hold them still.
"Are you sure?" Warren's eyes were sharp, cutting right through me.
He pressed, "Really think about it. Has anyone in your family ever bought toys like that?
"Or maybe Anne got her hands on something like that somewhere else?"
"No, absolutely not. I pick out all of Anne's toys myself, I..."
"Are you busy with work?" he cut me off.
"I'm a stay-at-home mom."
As soon as I said that, his gaze grew even colder.
"Stay-at-home mom?" he repeated, suspicion dripping from his voice. "Then tell me. How does a five-year-old kid end up swallowing dozens of magnetic beads?"
"I don't know!" I almost shouted, my voice cracking with desperation.
Tears finally broke free, streaming down my face. "I really don't know!" I sobbed.
The door to the interrogation room swung open.
My husband, Mike, rushed in.
His face was bright red and he was gasping for breath. It seemed like he'd sprinted the whole way here.
Right behind him was my mother-in-law, Mary Charles.
"Officer, is there some kind of misunderstanding?" Mike asked urgently.
Warren just shot him a look and stayed silent.
Mike whipped around and glared at me, his eyes blazing. "Sarah! How could you let this happen to Anne?
"Didn't I tell you to put all those little toys away? Are you even listening to me?"
I froze.
He wasn't asking me what happened.
He was blaming me.
Mary rushed over, grabbed Mike's arm, and started wiping her tears. "Oh, my sweet Anne. What on earth happened to her?"
She was wailing, but kept shooting me these accusing looks. "Sarah, we all know raising a kid is tough, but you really can't be so careless, can you?
"If something happens to Anne, how are we supposed to live?"
Her words were like a knife dipped in poison, every sentence pushing the blame onto me.
Mike's anger flared even hotter. "Say something! Cat got your tongue? What the hell happened to Anne?"
I looked at him, then at Mary.
One was furious, the other was heartbroken, but both of them stared at me like I was the one on trial, like I was the culprit.
My heart kept sinking, deeper and deeper, until it felt like I was falling into an endless abyss.