David set his mug down hard and knelt beside her chair. “Hey… what’s wrong?”
Lily glanced toward the hallway like someone might be eavesdropping, then leaned in so close her breath tickled his ear.
“When you go away… Grandma Evelyn takes me somewhere. She says it’s our special secret and I’m not allowed to tell you or Mommy.”
Ice flooded David’s veins. Twelve years exposing hidden abuse, corrupt facilities, exploitation rings—he knew exactly what that trembling whisper meant.
“Where does she take you?” he asked, forcing calm.
“I don’t know the name. It’s a tall house… big blue door. Sometimes other kids are there. And grown-ups make us do stuff.”
His pulse roared. “What stuff, baby?”
Her voice cracked. “They take pictures. Make us put on strange clothes, smile for the camera, touch each other…” She dissolved into sobs, burying her face in his shirt.
David held her tight while his brain screamed every red flag he’d ever documented.
Sarah (his wife of nine years) was already at her downtown accounting office. Evelyn—Sarah’s mom—had moved into the backyard guest cottage six months earlier after her husband died. It had felt like ideal family support.
Now it felt like a setup.