Its Only Fair Ch 05

Thanks to all for your comments, feedback, and votes. Remember - good or bad, you are encouraged to vote and comment - it's your right to do so and you should exercise it whenever and however you want.

However, you should also recognize that there are others out there who do not and will not agree with you or your thoughts - and that's ok too. The same way you have the right to vote and comment - they have the same right as well. Be respectful of one another and if you come across something you don't like - then move on.

We are at and past the mid way point of this tale and are coming to the end soon (not this chapter). Unless something changes, Chapter 7 should be the end. It is a difficult subject and not one that everyone is comfortable with. That's ok. What I am doing here is writing for my own enjoyment and crafting a tale that is true to itself and the reality that 99.9% of us live under. I don't think anyone knows someone who in real life actually acts like they bluster and bellow to in some of the stories we all read and enjoy here, but that's ok, I enjoy reading them as well.

Once again, at the end of the 1

st

day, Chapter 3 had 14,000 views and 75 comments and Chapter 4 which posted Sunday had 14k views as well on its first day - more proof that I shouldn't choke to death on a dick and stop writing (to paraphrase some of the comments tossed my way). ;)

This submission is a day later than I expected it to be, but it's also about twice the length of the last submission - 13.9k words. That should be meaty enough for everyone.

Like a great writer once said: Write what you know. So that's what this is, me writing what I know.

Again, no 10

th

degree black belts or Drano douches or guys wearing tutus or hiding in the closet with a ball gag on. This is as close to reality as I could get it and still tell the story.

Enjoy! -V

*****

"Mr. Masters."

I turned to Sam Livingstein and asked, "What now?"

The strident man from Child Protective Services idly played with the frayed end of his jacket's lapel, the synthesized melody of "Twinkle, Twinkle" playing in the background, undercut by the sound of Officer Blake Mirandarizing my wife, Elle. "I would not presume to guess, Mr. Masters. I am here at the request of Child Protective Service as a field investigator to follow up on a complaint of suspected child neglect."

He looked around Amber's room; the colorful walls, the prints, the lovingly painted furnishings and numerous pictures of her over the last eleven months sticky tacked near her window. "I see that her room is well maintained, clean, and without any obvious signs of danger. I noted the electrical outlets were safety protected, the door to the basement was equipped with a spring hinge, and that there are no outward signs that she is mistreated or is suffering. It is obvious to me that her parent, you, is an affectionate and well meaning guardian who has shown himself to have the child's interests as his primary desire."

We heard the screen door close and the voices of Elle and the two Suffolk County cops fade as they led her to their patrol car. Sam concluded, "So in this matter regarding Amber Victoria Masters, I see no reason to suggest that she be removed from the home and placed elsewhere while this situation is resolved."

"Wait, what?"

"I said, Mr. Masters, there is no reason to remove Amber from her home and your care at this time."

I blinked incredulously. "Seriously? That was a possibility?" My blood felt like ice around my heart. "You can do that?"

He nodded. "Of course. That is one of the purviews and powers of Child Protective Services."

"Oh my god!" I gripped my daughter tighter, holding her against my chest as if this...guy...was going to snatch her away from me right now. "I had no idea."

"Too many times the child is a victim in these situations."

"I really had no idea. I still would have done what I had to do, but it might have been something I spoke about with Officer Rafferty first before this. I had no idea that she was going to bring CPS in and I'm just shocked. It would have been nice if she told me about involving you first."

Sam Livingstein looked down at his phone, flipping something across the screen. "The initial report of child neglect in the regards of Mrs. Elle Masters did not originate with Suffolk PD."

"It didn't?" I frowned. "Then who?"

"A Ms. Kerri Hanes from Littletot's Daycare in Levittown."

I nodded, but something twisted inside my gut. I felt bile rush up to the back of my throat and had to swallow the acrid mixture down, burning the sides of my esophagus, making my breath short and labored. Kerri? What the hell? Why would you do that and risk having Amber taken from me? I gathered my wits and focused on Sam's face. "So how did you get to come here with the Fifth Precinct?"

"Usually in these matters we request police presence on site if the complaint cites potential violence and the complaint here did so. Two snapshots were included, both showing you sir, sporting the black eye you do now. The complaint had dictated that the minor, Amber, had no such trauma and was continuously in fine health, but it is always prudent to bring along the police if possible."

I touched my face once again cursing Elle and that fucking black eye. Even now, being taken away by police, CPS standing in my daughter's room and telling me that the one person I had told the story to took it upon herself to risk my losing my kid - I still felt that rage against my wife. I still wanted to hit her, to take something back. Something that she had been stealing from me day after day for months. The little cuts, barbs, hurts - each one by themselves, nothing. But taken as a total, a whole, it's been a torturous journey unlike any other and unequaled to anything I could imagine anyone dealing with on their own.

And now, being what it was, I felt...robbed somehow. Cheated, one would say, of my chance to...hit back? Reclaim what was mine? Crap - I'd settle for grabbing her about the shoulders and shake her silly while shouting at her, "You stupid dumb bitch! Why? Why? What the fuck is wrong with you? Hasn't my love and sacrifices and bending over backwards been enough for you?!" I know in the deepest pit of my heart I wouldn't strike her, I would never strike her - but I'm allowed to WANT to.

With what my life was becoming? No one could gainsay me a guilty desire.

"However," Sam continued, "in this case we were requested by Suffolk PD to have a field agent at the ready as one of the parents, yourself, was already in and filing a complaint against the child's mother."

"Oh, ok."

"Mr. Masters, I can tell that has been quite a shock to you and you are still processing this matter. If I might give you some advice from someone who has dealt with this sort of situation for the last 18 years? You need to do things to safeguard your daughter and your current situation. One - get yourself a lawyer and do it tomorrow at the latest. And Two - make all your decisions on what would be best for Amber. Those two guiding principles should steer you through the mess you will find yourself in."

He turned the page he had been writing on in my direction, and handed me a pen." If you would sign here, you can see that I have given your child's home a satisfactory rating and made the recommendation that there should be no changes at this time."

I took the pen in nerveless fingers and scrawled my name in the box where indicated after giving the paper a short read. It was some sort of action report, sparsely populated and simple in its layout. But I made sure to note the two boxes near the bottom - one labeled 'unsatisfactory', the other one 'satisfactory'. A large check was emblazoned there.

Mr. Livingstein took the clipboard back after taking a copy off and handing it to me. "I will file this tonight and I'm sure that someone from CPS will contact you in the near future for a follow-up visit and observation."

I heard the front door open and Officer Rafferty call my name. I motioned Sam ahead of me and followed, heading off to my living room to speak with her. "Ok. Thanks again, Mr. Livingstien. I'll...take your advice and look for a lawyer tomorrow." I shook his hand and he let himself out as I turned back to the Suffolk Police Officer and deflated slightly. "Well, I'm glad that's over."

I couldn't help but notice the sorrowful expression that flitted across the cop's face; her eyes softening for a heartbeat or two. It faded and she was once again the professional lawman. "Mr. Masters, we have your wife and are going to be taking her down to the Fifth Precinct. She has calmed down and assures us that she will not have any further outbursts. However, I should inform you that if during our investigation Mrs. Masters continues to show such erratic behavior, we will be taking her down to Stony Brook for a psychological evaluation."

"Ok," I frowned. "Should I follow? How will she get home? Will you take her?" The muscle on my right eye began ticking and it felt like a dull knife was slowly pushing into the back of my head. "I'm just not sure what it is I'm supposed to do."

She looked around the house and back at me. "I would suggest you stay here, Mr. Masters. If you are needed we'll let you know. Please stay near the phone and carry your cell phone with you until you hear back from us." Not seeing whatever it was she was looking for, she asked, "Mr. Masters. Is it at all possible you know where your wife has secreted her handcuffs?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. I took a look this morning up here, but did not find them. I would suspect they were in the basement."

"Can we go look?" she asked, pointedly looking at me with a sense of expectation.

I wasn't sure why she appeared ready to jump but I nodded my head and replied, "Sure. The basement is through here." I plopped Amber into her rolling chair and knelt down, saying, "Daddy'll be right up, Sweetheart."

We went down stairs, the spring hinge closing the door behind us. I flipped on both switches and waved my hand ahead. "I first found them by that support column."

Rafferty grunted and stepped around me, looking at the bare concrete floor and then heading towards the shelving unit I had. It was crammed with old paper records, spare light bulbs, some winter clothes in boxes, a small smattering of holiday trinkets in poorly labeled totes. She gave them all a short look, tilting a couple forward for some reason before letting them fall back. Not finding what she was looking for she then went to the laundry table near the washer and dryer, giving the same sort of intense yet brief search over there.

She frowned deeper and headed back towards the stairs and I. "I don't see them, Mr. Masters. May I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"I would like you to look for them and if you find them, hold them here until I call you later today. I don't have time to do a proper search for them and I've left my partner with your wife long enough." We climbed the stairs and shut the basement door behind us. "I am curious as to what kind of handcuffs she has and where she might have gotten them from."

Amber came rolling over to me, giggling as she did so; the metal edge of the rolling chair smacking into my toes. "I'll take a look. I want to do a little look for a lawyer first. My sister knows one I think. Mr. Livingstein suggested it."

"I agree."

I thrust my hand out to her in gratitude, shaking hers warmly and for some time. "I want to thank you, Officer Rafferty."

"Not a problem, Mr. Masters. It's why we're here." She passed me one of her cards. "I will call you as the evening progresses to let you know what's going on. But just in case, here's my contact information."

She tipped her hat in my direction and I watched from my front door as climbed into the police cruiser, her partner turning off the rotating strobe lights at this point and backing the vehicle out of my driveway. In the back seat, staring at me with a forlorn expression through the window, Elle locked her tear filled eyes with me until the police car was finally out of sight.

I turned away from the front door and choking on my sobs, I picked up Amber from her chair and brought her to the dinner table. I strapped her into her high chair and warmed up a prepared meal for her. I got her a sippy cup filled with juice and placed it next to her while I gave a smile and grabbed some leftovers from the fridge.

I ate two bites and put everything back, unable to swallow my dinner; the taste of vomit permeated every bite I took. Out of Amber's direct line of sight I sagged against the side of the fridge and silently cried, shuddering sobs tearing their way through me. I gasped quietly, not wanting to alert my daughter of the trauma I was feeling. I could not grasp how my life had gotten to this point and from the clues given by both Officer Rafferty and CPS, this matter was far from over.

*Knock, Knock*

I looked up, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands. "Who is it?" I croaked out, struggling to get myself under control.

"Hey, Rick. It's me, Stan."

"Hey, Stan." I grabbed a handful of napkins and wiped my face clean, "Hang on a sec, bud." I blew my nose, mucus threatening to spill out of the tissue I was holding there was so much of it. Tossing it, I called out, "It's open, man. Come on it. We're in the kitchen."

I looked over and saw Stan come in. He looked troubled, eyes darting around and hands jammed into the pockets of his sweatshirt. "You ok? What's going on? I can't stay, but I saw the cop car outside before."

"It's a long story, Stan. They took Elle away for some questioning?"

"Holy crap? Really? For what? Your eye?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Also, CPS is now involved and they showed up too."

"Crap."

I felt a lump in my throat again. "Damn it, Stan. I was this close to losing my daughter."

He just stared at me, barely holding it together in front of him. He looked terrible himself, morose and downcast, shoulders rounded and slumped. "My god. I never knew."

"None of us did, bud."

Stan stayed in companionable silence a few seconds and then seemed to quiver uncomfortably. "Look, Rick. I am so sorry. I just wanted to come over and make sure you were ok. I've got some stuff I have to take care of. I'll check back on you later, alright?"

"Thanks, bud."

He opened the door, offering me a final, "No problem, man," before leaving, closing it behind him. I glanced at the clock: 8:32. Groaning, I clambered to my feet and cleaned up the remains of Amber's dinner, my daughter alternating between yawning and fidgeting.

I carried her into the bathroom and ran a fast bath for her, more of a sponge down than a full soaking. Once finished I dried her off and got her dressed for sleep. I lay her down and she fussed and whimpered, sensing something was wrong on some level. "It's late, honey," I said patting her forehead and running my hand across her hair in slow measured strokes. It calmed her down and within a few minutes she began to fall asleep. I bent low, gave her a kiss good night, and left her room.

Mechanically I cleaned the kitchen, putting away the dishes and straightening up the counters. I went to the front door and locked it, heading next into the living room where I picked up the few clothes draped along the back of the sofa and piled them in the bedroom. I went back inside, sat down on my plush recliner, and leaned back, not turning the TV on.

I stared at the ceiling not seeing anything, just letting my mind wander and thoughts empty from the sheer exhaustive pressure I had been under all day. I reached into my pocket and fished out my cell phone. I scrolled down to my last received messages and looked at the contact information: Kerri H.

I thumbed across and hit dial.

The phone rang twice and I then heard the pleasant voice of Amber's daycare teacher through the ear speaker, "Hello, Mr. Rick. I was thinking about you tonight. Did everything go ok?"

I tried to talk, but couldn't; my voice blocked. I coughed and counted to five very slowly.

"Mr. Rick? Hello?"

"Hello, Kerri. Sorry about that."

"That's ok."

"Kerri, I want to ask you, did you contact CPS today after our lunch?"

"Yes, I did."

I could feel a spark of anger form in my gut. "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Mr. Rick, whenever..."

I interrupted her, "Are you aware that I could have lost Amber tonight if the inspector felt this was a bad home for her? Why would you dare do that or risk that? And you didn't even tell me?"

"Mr. Rick..."

I pressed on, "Not even a head's up about it. That was over the line and reckless, Kerri."

"Mr. Rick, that's my job."

"It's your job to have my daughter taken from me?!"

"Mr. Rick...Rick...it's my job to contact CPS if at any point we find positive signs of suspected physical abuse on any of the children we are responsible for."

"There isn't a mark on Amber."

"I am very much aware of that, Rick," she answered, talking with exaggerated calmness, trying to ease my frustration over the phone. "But you were not. I felt that you and your child were in a dangerous home position and I talked about it with Shelly and the Littletot's directors today after lunch. I didn't tell anyone of what you talked to me about, so don't think that I abused your trust. However, I did show them your pictures and that you had been assaulted by Mrs. Masters over the weekend. They supported my decision to call CPS and agreed to back me up and vouch for the decision should need be."

I felt a bit out of my element, sort of floundering here. "Is that real?"

"Absolutely. Teachers in public schools have to do it to."

"I didn't know that."

"Yep. If you don't call CPS and you had prior knowledge of child abuse or neglect and something happens after the fact, you can be held liable and sued."

I grunted, my anger snuffed out. "Crap. I'm sorry, Kerri."

"It's ok, Mr. Rick. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a warning about it before hand, I'm not allowed. But now that it happened, if you don't mind me asking, is everything ok?"

"They took Elle away for questioning about an hour ago and CPS left saying that they were leaving Amber here with me."

I could hear her smile over the phone. "That's good. Great even. Really. So what happens now?"

"I have to wait for the police to call me back and tell me what's going on. They might take her to Stony Brook Hospital for psychological evaluation."

"Wow. Why?"

"She lost her temper in from of the cops and they ended up handcuffing her." At that point I snapped my fingers and said, "Listen, Kerri. Sorry again for getting upset. But I need to make a phone call now. Have to find a lawyer. I think that Amber won't be in tomorrow, I have a feeling this is going to take up most of my day."

"Ok, Rick. Do you mind if I check in with you tomorrow? Make sure everything is ok? I feel bad about this."

"Sure, that'd be great. But don't take it personal, it's not your fault at all. I'll talk to you soon, Kerri."

"Have a better night, Mr. Rick."

I broke the connection and scrolled through my contacts until I found 'sister'. I called her and waited until I heard her pick up and say, "Hey, bro."

"Hey, sis. How are you doing? Get any early May snow?"

My sister moved to Missouri, perhaps an hour outside of St. Louis, a good 5 years ago. She developed a lot of traits and mannerisms from our mother, but her time across the country had smoothed out the 'New York' in her talk and swagger. "No, bro. I think it's all done. Say, funny you should call. Spoke to mom earlier. She said that Elle was hitting you?"