“After Chase told me about Pim, I found the death records. It was labeled accidental, but there was a description of that day. I can’t imagine what that was like for you, his sisters. It made me realize why Alex … does what she does.” He looks at Will sleeping on my chest. “And why this baby is so important. To both of you.”

I’m trying to sift through what he’s saying, to figure out whose side he’s on, but I can’t. “What are you going to do about the drugs, Sully?”

“I’m going to find the truth. It’s one thing to get into trouble, but it’s another thing to cause it on purpose. My job is to protect people, and right now, I think you need protection, Ruth. You and your son.”

As he’s speaking, his phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, stares coldly at the screen. A look passes between him and Chase that’s hard to decode. Then he shuts off his phone.

“Was that my sister?” I ask. “What does she wa—”

But I’m cut short when the door opens and a man and a woman enter. The woman is holding a baby seat, which she puts down onto the tray table. Something about their energy instantly makes my heart beat faster.

“Can we help you?” Chase says. “I think you must have the wrong room.”

But beside him, Sully whispers, “Morris.”

“You know these people?” I ask Sully, a sickness gathering in the pit of me. “What’s going on?”

“Hello, Ms. Van Ness, my name is Morris Arbuckle.” The man in front of me holds out a card with an insignia. I stare at it blankly until he sets it onto the side table, smooths down his tie. “This is my colleague, Minerva Cummins. We haven’t met before, but Minerva and I are child protection social workers.”

“Child protection … like Alex.” The pieces slide into place and I turn to Sully. “What’s going on?” I jab a finger at him. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

“Morris, I can guess why you’re here, but this is a mistake.” Sully’s voice is low like a growl, but the man holds up one palm.

“Ruth, I was called here because there have been reported concerns about you and your baby’s safety and well-being.”

“No, that’s not true,” I say, gripping Will tightly. He’s fallen asleep in my arms. I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against my throat.

“From who? Who called you?” Chase says, stepping to my side.

“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” Morris says. “At this time, we need to assess if it’s safe for your child to remain in your care.”

My voice catches in my throat. “Alex is lying. You can’t trust her.”