I told her everything. The custody arrangement. Delaney’s text about the lake house. The empty kitchen. The crust in the cup.
“Do you have any idea where their mother is?” Sarah asked, her pen pausing.
“No,” I said flatly, the anger finally beginning to overtake the panic. “I haven’t heard her voice since Friday. She lied to me.”
“Are you prepared to take temporary full, emergency custody of both children while the state investigates this neglect?”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I will burn the world down before I let them go back to that house.”
Before Sarah could reply, a doctor tapped on the glass door and stepped in. He looked exhausted, but the tight lines around his mouth had softened. “Mr. Mercer? Elsie is stable.”
I dropped my head into my hands, a jagged breath tearing out of my lungs.
“She was severely dehydrated and battling a nasty gastrointestinal infection,” the doctor explained. “It escalated rapidly because her body had no fuel to fight it. We’ve got her on aggressive IV fluids and broad-spectrum antibiotics. She’s sleeping naturally now. You got her here just in time.”
