Vivi giggles. And nods. “We do. She likes turkey bacon.” Then she slides one of the fridge drawers open and points. “She likes turkey sausage too.”
“Well, fuck. We’re going to have to diverge on this point. Because no way in hell am I eating—” But my small, good-natured rant is interrupted by a knock on the door. My eyes slide over to the kitchen clock and find that it is eight twenty-one on a Monday morning. “Who the heck is that?” I ask.
“Probably one of the kids who wants to play,” Vivi says. “You cook. I’ll get rid of them.”
I chuckle at her response. She’s just so damn cute. Then resign myself to one of Daisy’s healthy breakfasts, because there are no real eggs and no real bacon.
But then I hear voices at the front door. And the unfamiliar one isn’t a kid. It’s a woman.
I walk around the corner of the kitchen and peek into the living room. Vivi is at the front door, but it’s not really open, so I can’t see who’s there.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Vicious Vaughn?” The voice is loud now.
“Who’s asking?” I say, walking over to the front door and pulling it open.
A middle-aged woman greets me, wearing a severe gray suit that matches the scowl on her face, holding a binder or something in her hand. “I’m Cheryl Stratford of Child Protective Services.”
Oh, fuck. “OK.” I remain calm. Not my first run-in with CPS. Though it is the first time as a parent. So it’s way scarier than when you’re the kid in question. “So what can I do for you?”
“You can step outside and make this easy.” This is yet another unfamiliar voice. And when I peer over the top of Ms. Stratford, I see three Fort Collins Police officers.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask again.
“Mom!” Vivi yells. “Mom! Get out here!”
“You’re under arrest, Mr. Vaughn,” one of the officers says.
“Mom!”
“Why?” I ask.
“Can you please open the screen door?” Stratford says.
But this is not my first po-po at the door rodeo, either. So I know they can’t come in unless I let them. “No, I think I’m gonna keep that door shut.” Then I slide the nearly useless lock over to the side, just to make my point.
“What’s going on?” I turn to find Daisy hurriedly tying a robe around her waist and pushing hair out of her eyes. “What?” She’s squinting at the CPS lady.
“We’re here for a welfare check on your daughter, Daisy,” Stratford says. Like they are old friends.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because we’ve heard that Mr. Vaughn has been spending time with her. And that she has been out at the Shrike ranch for the past week.”
“So?” Daisy and I say this together.
“He’s her father,” Daisy adds.
“And Veronica Shrike is my freaking sister. And I’ve got the DNA test. It’s legit. Do you want my lawyer to call you?”
“I’m afraid we’re past that now,” the cop says. “A warrant has been issued for your arrest.”
“For what?” I’m starting to lose my cool.
“Child endangerment,” Stratford says.
“When?”
“Last weekend? AA meeting? Biker swap meet? Motorcycle sidecar? Any of this ringing any bells?”
“She was never in danger.”
“The judge will decide that eventually,” Cop says. “But right now, you’re getting arrested and booked.”
“No,” I say, pulling out my phone from my jeans pocket. “I’m calling my lawyer, that’s what I’m doing.”
“If you call your lawyer,” Stratford interjects, “I’m taking Vivian into protective custody.”
“What?” Daisy says. “You can’t do that! She’s not in danger. We just woke up.”
“We were gonna bring Mommy breakfast in bed,” Vivi adds.
Stratford eyes me. “If he resists and makes a big deal, I will have no choice but to remove Vivian from your home until the judge decides you are fit.”
“When did I become unfit? What did I do?”
“You didn’t even notice your child went missing,” the cops says. “We issued an Amber Alert.”
“An Amber Alert you asked for,” Stratford finishes, “when you knew that the man who had your daughter was her father.”
“But—” Daisy starts.
I put a hand up. “Don’t say anything else, Daisy.” I look Stratford straight in the eyes. “She’s out to screw us over and nothing we say here will make a bit of difference. Will it?” I ask her.
“Please, Mr. Vaughn. Make this easy on everyone and step outside.”
I unlock the screen door.
Daisy puts her hand over mine. “No.”
“It’s fine, Daisy. We’ve got the best lawyer money can buy. He’ll take care of everything and I’ll be back before dinner.”
“I’m afraid that’s not how this day ends,” Stratford says. Then she opens her binder thing and pulls out a piece of paper.
“What’s that?” Daisy asks, leaning forward to try to read it through the screen.
“It’s a restraining order. We took it out on Vivian’s behalf this morning.”
“A restraining order for who?” Daisy asks.