The room felt heavy with silence as Heather examined the photographs on the investigator’s tablet. My heart sank at her lack of surprise. It was as if she had been expecting this moment. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and she leaned in, whispering words that sent a chill down my spine.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

It was supposed to be a calm, uneventful Saturday. A day filled with laughter and the sweet, innocent chatter of children. Instead, it felt like we were on the precipice of something far darker than I could have imagined.

Heather’s demeanor shifted from shock to something unreadable—was it resignation or defiance? Her eyes, usually warm and open, were now guarded, as if she was weighing her options.

The investigator, a seasoned woman named Officer Ramirez, cleared her throat. “Heather, do you know how these bruises might have occurred?”

Heather hesitated, glancing at James and me. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—fear? Guilt? It was hard to tell. She finally said, “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Heather, this is your daughter. What aren’t you telling us?”

She swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the floor. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately…”

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Officer Ramirez raised an eyebrow. “Stress can explain a lot of things, but these bruises are concerning. Emery is just a baby.”

Heather shifted her weight, her hands twisting together. “I didn’t hurt her,” she said quietly, but her voice wavered.

James stepped forward, his expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Heather, if you know something, you need to tell us. Emery’s safety is the most important thing right now.”

Heather nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know. I know.” She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s someone I’ve been seeing. I didn’t realize… I didn’t think he’d…”