Chapter 1
My stepmother tried to yank me out of the police car right after the officers arrested her for abusing me.
I was ten years old.
Small enough that my feet didn’t touch the floor when I sat in most chairs.
Old enough to know how to hide bruises under long sleeves.
That morning, my gym teacher saw them anyway.
Her name was Mrs. Bailey.
We were changing for class when my shirt lifted and she saw the purple marks across my back.
Not one.
Not two.
Too many.
She went very still.
“Liam,” she said softly, “who did that?”
I froze.
Every rule Brenda had beaten into me screamed inside my head.
Don’t tell.
No one will believe you.
Your father will choose me.
You’ll go somewhere worse.
I pulled my shirt down fast.
“I fell.”
Mrs. Bailey’s eyes filled with something that wasn’t pity.
It was anger.
Gentle anger.
The kind that made me feel less alone.
“That does not look like a fall,” she said.
I looked at the floor.
“I’m okay.”
She didn’t argue.
She just said, “You’re safe with me.”
I didn’t believe her.
Not yet.
By three o’clock that afternoon, two police cars were parked in front of our house in Austin.
Our house looked normal from the outside.
White siding.
Blue door.
Flower pots Brenda made me water even when it was ninety-eight degrees.
Nobody passing by would know about the locked pantry.
Or the belt hidden behind the laundry basket.
Or the nights I slept with my shoes on because Brenda liked waking me up by dragging me from bed.
Brenda opened the door smiling.
That was what she did when adults watched.
She wore a yellow blouse and pearl earrings.
“Oh, officers,” she said warmly. “What is this about?”
Officer Martinez didn’t smile back.
He had already seen the photos Mrs. Bailey sent.
The bruises.
The scratches.
The old marks.
The new ones.
His partner, Officer Kim, stood beside him with her hand near her radio.
“We need to speak with you about Liam Walker,” Officer Martinez said.
Brenda’s smile twitched.
“My stepson? Is he in trouble at school again?”
I was standing at the bottom of the stairs.
My backpack still on.
My heart pounding so hard I could barely hear.
Officer Martinez looked past her at me.
His voice changed.
Softened.
“Liam, can you come here?”
Brenda turned.
Her eyes found mine.
Just for one second, the mask slipped.
Warning.
Threat.
Promise.
Then she smiled again.
“Sweetheart, tell the officers you’re fine.”
I didn’t move.
Officer Kim stepped around Brenda and came toward me.
“You’re not in trouble,” she said.
That was when Brenda’s face hardened.
“This is ridiculous,” she snapped. “He lies for attention.”
Officer Martinez said, “Brenda Walker, turn around.”
Her mouth fell open.
“What?”
“You are being detained while we investigate injury to a child.”
The sound of the handcuffs clicking around her wrists made my whole body go cold.
Not relieved.
Cold.
Because I had imagined that sound a hundred times.
And every time, Brenda came back worse.
Officer Kim guided me outside.
The sun was too bright.
Neighbors stood on porches.
I wanted to disappear.
She opened the back door of the police cruiser and helped me sit sideways with my feet still outside.
“I’m going to stay right here,” she said. “Can you tell me if anything hurts right now?”
Everything hurt.
My arms.
My back.
My stomach.
My throat from holding words too long.
I whispered, “My wrist.”
She looked at the fresh red marks Brenda had left that morning when she grabbed me for spilling cereal.
Her face tightened.
Then it happened.
Brenda twisted free.
I heard Officer Martinez shout.
Brenda ran straight toward the cruiser.
Her face was wild.
Not the fake mother from the doorway.
The real Brenda.
“YOU LITTLE TRAITOR!” she screamed.
I froze.
She reached into the open car door and grabbed my wrist.
Her nails dug into my skin.
“Get out here NOW!”
Pain shot up my arm.
Officer Kim grabbed for Brenda, but Brenda pulled hard.
My shoes scraped the floor of the cruiser.
I saw her eyes.
I knew those eyes.
Those eyes meant closet.
Belt.
No dinner.
No sleep.
No help.
Something inside me moved before I could think.
I lifted my leg and kicked as hard as I could.
My sneaker hit her hand.
Brenda howled and let go.
She stumbled backward.
Something metal fell from her pocket and hit the pavement.
Her car keys.
Officer Martinez slammed her against the side of the cruiser and restrained her again.
Officer Kim moved between us.
“You’re okay, Liam. She can’t reach you.”
I was shaking so hard my teeth clicked.
Officer Martinez bent down and picked up the keys.
He stared at them.
Then he looked toward Brenda’s black SUV parked in the driveway.
“Does this vehicle belong to the suspect?” he asked.
Officer Kim nodded.
“Registered to her.”
Brenda stopped struggling.
That was the first time I felt real fear from her.
Not anger.
Fear.
“Don’t touch my car,” she said.
Officer Martinez looked at her.
“What’s in the vehicle?”
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed.
He walked to the SUV.
Officer Kim stayed with me.
Brenda started screaming.
“You need a warrant! You can’t search my property!”
Officer Martinez pressed the trunk button on the key fob.
The trunk popped open.
Inside, sitting right on top of the spare tire, was a black duffel bag.
Officer Martinez unzipped it.
He pulled out stacks of papers.
Then stopped.
Officer Kim whispered, “Martinez?”
He lifted the papers.
Fake birth certificates.
Fake social security cards.
Then a blue passport.
He opened it.
His face changed.
He looked from the passport to me.
Then back down.
My stomach twisted.
“What?” I whispered.
Officer Martinez turned the passport so Officer Kim could see.
The photo was mine.
My face.
My name.
But the last name was wrong.
Liam Carter.
Not Liam Walker.
Brenda screamed from the driveway.
“He belongs to me!”
May you like
Officer Martinez looked at her coldly.
“No,” he said. “He doesn’t.”
