The social worker remained inside.
“We’ll need to talk with Chloe,” she said gently.
Victor nodded.
“She’s upstairs.”
They walked to the bedroom door.
Victor knocked softly.
“Chloe, it’s me. Everything’s okay. You can open the door.”
The lock clicked.
The door opened slightly, revealing Chloe’s tearful face.
“Did she leave?” she whispered.
Victor knelt to meet her eyes.
“Yes, sweetheart. She’s gone.”
Chloe glanced at the woman behind him.
“She’s here to help us,” Victor explained. “No one will hurt you anymore.”
Chloe hesitated, then suddenly threw her arms around him.
Victor held her carefully so he wouldn’t hurt her back.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he whispered.
Later they sat in the back of an ambulance while a paramedic examined Chloe’s back.
A dark bruise lay near her spine, along with several older marks.
Victor clenched his fists.
“There’s no fracture,” the paramedic said, “but we’ll take X-rays to be certain.”
Chloe looked up at her father nervously.
“Are you mad at me?”
Victor felt his chest tighten.
“I could never be angry with you for telling the truth.”
She studied his face carefully.
“Mom said if I told you everything would get worse.”