I push forward and close the door in Ruth’s face, locking it behind her. I walk back to the living room. There’s not a sound from Chase’s room. He’s managed to sleep through all the disruption.

I put Will back into his bassinet by the couch and pull the blanket over him. He’s staring at me, his eyes dark on mine. It’s a face I’ve seen before, and I shake it from my memory. I won’t go back there. Pim is gone.

“Stop it,” I say. But he doesn’t. I work the clothespin out of his grasp, throw it across the floor. Then I turn away from him, bury my face in my pillow, and try to sleep.

RUTH

Seven days later, Sully walks me into the Family Services building for the family conference. We ride the grinding elevator in silence, my stomach churning. Once we’re inside their reception area, which is cruelly colorful, Morris shows us into the boardroom, hurrying to lower dusty vinyl blinds over a huge whiteboard that flanks one whole wall. I catch a glimpse of a few names before he does. Other taken children. I feel utterly queasy.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Morris says. “Let me go and round up Minerva and Alex.”

“They won’t be long,” Sully says once he’s gone. He insisted on coming with me to the family conference, woke me up early, made sure I wore ironed clothes. He hands me a granola bar he got from the vending machine.

I stare at the snack, my insides slippery as eels. “Sully, what if they don’t give him back?” I remember him on her chest at the door, his eyes wide and frightened. That was one week ago. He’s my child. He needs me, and I need him. More than that—I’m more than fit to care for him. Can’t anyone see that but me?

“Try to stay positive, Ruth. We’ll have answers soon.”

But Alex has stacked the cards against me. She’s always been a cheater, and I’m wondering what she has up her sleeve this time.

Sully pulls out the folder he’s been working on for the past two weeks, sets it down on the table.

“Do you really think we have all we need?” I’d been confident until now. Sully had convinced me we were more than safe. But now it’s decision time, and it’s all I can do not to vomit onto the carpet.

Sully goes to say something, but is cut off by the reentry of Morris and Minerva. They march in the same exact formation as when they came into my hospital room. Morris leads, his tie askew; Minerva trails behind. He takes a seat opposite us. She follows suit.