My Thumb Was Hovering Over the Call Button
My thumb was hovering over the call button.
The number for Child Protective Services was already typed into my phone.
One tap.
That was all it would take.
I was standing beside our trash bins in slippers, staring at the six-foot wooden fence separating our yard from the house next door.
Then something heavy hit the ground on the other side.
THUMP.
A child whispered urgently, “Quick. Before Dad sees.”
Another voice answered, “Hurry! You KNOW what he’ll do.”
Every uneasy thought I’d had during the previous three weeks came rushing back at once.
The whistle at 5:00 every morning.
The seven children standing in a perfectly straight line.
The clipboard.
The inspections.
The chore chart hanging on the side of their garage.
The neighbors who had warned us before we’d even finished carrying our moving boxes inside.
I tightened my grip on my phone.
Then I put one eye against the narrow gap between two fence boards.
And what I saw changed the way I looked at that family—and at our entire neighborhood.
But I should start at the beginning.
