Emily woke with a start; her phone playing a tune as her alarm. She had been in a rather deep sleep. She sat up and bed and stretched. Fatigue still clawed at the corners of her eyes. She did her best to rub that away, but a fresh coffee would probably do the trick.
Getting out of bed, she turned on the percolator coffee machine included in the hotel room. Hotel coffee was never great, but caffeine is caffeine. It would brew while she took a morning shower. She turned on the shower, and absentmindedly thumbed through today's emails on her phone. Nothing terribly interesting, the usual assortment of department reports, memos, crypto scams, and other spam. Emily had never quite figured out the spam settings on her email. Or maybe she just didn't trust it. She'd rather comb through a hundred junk emails than miss something important. People did, on occasion, email her about children in danger. It was just part of her job.
The shower had finally warmed to an acceptable level, and Emily got in. It was cramped and the shower head was placed nearly at face level. She was all too familiar with cost saving designs that these budget hotels used. Having stayed in many before. It was annoying, but tolerable.
Unable to luxuriate in the small confines of the shower, she quickly finished. Today was a big day after all, she would finally get to speak to Libby and Tyler. Emily was looking forward to hearing all their exploits in their new home. She knew from the giggles yesterday that they were happy, and from the fresh bread she could also assume that they were cared for. This was the satisfying part of her job. The part where she could really reap the rewards of her hard work. Many in the public reviled CPS, but Emily knew there was much they didn't understand. And day's like today were her validation, her payment, for the effort she put forth. Seeing the smiles of the children, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that they were truly happy and able to prosper; that was why she did the job.
Emily got dressed, opting for a yellow sundress instead of her usual business professional attire. She found it best to not appear cold or down-to-business with the kids. No, better to look happy and inviting. She wanted them to talk to her, to open up to her. How she looked was an important part of being trustworthy.
She then applied her make up and adjusted her hair, combing the errand strands back in order. She set down the comb and looked into the mirror. Looking back at her was a kind face, at least that's what she thought. She took a breath and blew it out, mentally falling into her role as friend and interviewer of the kids.
Emily grabbed her binder and purse and looked around the room for anything she might have missed. An unfinished slice of Mrs. Wakefield's home-made bread sat on a plate in the corner, darkened slightly from the day before. She had forgotten to put it away. It didn't matter, she wasn't hungry anyway. Confident that she had her belongings, she grabbed the cup of hotel coffee from the machine and left the room.
She set a brisk pace for herself, hoping that the exertion and the coffee would combine to stimulate her mind. As she walked, she ran down the list of questions she had in her mind. How were the kids feeling? What do they enjoy the most? What has caused them sadness? Basic questions to drive conversation. The kids would fill in the gaps with the right prompt. It was best to let them narrate their own experiences. A question too detailed might influence their response. Kids usually wanted to please the adults, so Emily was always careful not to lead them to an answer that might be satisfactory for her but ultimately untrue.
She rounded the corner of Mrs. Wakefield's street and walked to the house. She was initially greeted by the smell of more baked goods. This time apple pie, if she was correct. Smiling to herself, she once again knocked on the door and waited. Moments later, the elderly woman opened the door.
"Hello again, Ms. Baker. Won't you please come in?" Mrs. Wakefield said with a cheery smile. "The kids are excited to see you today."
Emily obliged and walked into the house, once again assaulted by that quintessential smell of old age. An olfactory reminder that everyone gets old eventually. The chorus of Only the Good Die Young briefly playing in the auditorium of her mind as she entered. At least there was the scent of apple pie to help combat it. Emily again silently chided herself. Why was she always worked up by this odor? She dismissed the thoughts and turned to Mrs. Wakefield.
"It's good to see you today too. I hope you all slept well last night. Would you please take me to the children? I am looking forward to talking with them."
Mrs. Wakefield smiled again and motioned for Emily to follow her. Again, sounds of laughter permeated the house. They crossed into the living room and Emily say that the kids were watching family videos. It was of them, playing in the park with that one neighbor kid. It was slightly odd, to see the kids watching images of their former bully. But everyone on the screen had a smile, so maybe it was alright. She made a mental note to ask about the encounter.
Libby and Tyler were sitting in comfortable arm chairs watching the TV; the backs of the chairs facing Emily. Mr.s Wakefield walked in front of the screen and turned it off, silencing the happy giggles from its speakers. She turned to the children:
"Children, Ms. Baker is here to talk to you today. I know you are excited but please behave yourselves. I'll be in the kitchen getting pie for all of us." She announced to the kids.
With that, she motioned Emily to take her place and she hurried off the kitchen to prepare a treat.
Emily closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. And then she walked in front of the TV to speak to the kids. She put a confident but warm smile on her face, determined to set the mood for the afternoon with them. She turned around, opened her mouth
and screamed.
There, sitting in front of her in those comfortable red armchairs were the decaying bodies of two children. The macabre simulacrum of their once lively bodies staring at her with unseeing, glassy eyes. Their skin gray sloughing off and exposing bones underneath. Libby's jaw hung loosely on her face, one side of it detached from her head.
Emily screamed again and fumbled to get her phone out of her purse, dropping it before recovering it and entering her passcode. She looked up at the children's remains once again, her breath coming in short bursts. Her body unsure of whether to sob or to vomit. Frantically, she dialed 911 as Mrs. Wakefield walked into the room.
"Whatever is the matter, dear?" Mrs. Wakefield asked, clearly concerned. Her head cocked slightly to one side, her eyes offering comfort and care.
With the phone to her ear Emily stammered "Th-the'yre dead, Mrs. Wakefield! The children are dead!"
Mrs. Wakefield walked to the children as if to inspect them as the 911 operator answered Emily's call.
"911, what's the nature of your emergency?"
"Th-this is CPS Agent Emily Baker. Badge number 3 6 9 4. I-I need police at 138 Pine Tree Road immediately." Emily barked out, her throat already scratchy from screaming. "I have dead children at the house."
Emily lowered the phone as the operator promised a quick arrival and she looked at Mrs. Wakefield, tears freely flowing from her eyes and obscuring her vision; twisting the rotting visage of the children even more so.
"Mrs. Wakefield....how, why?" It was all she could get out. Usually a fount for conversation, Emily just stared at the older lady, imploring her for whatever reason there might be for the scene before her. As if anything Mrs. Wakefield could say would be a justification for these dead children.
"They're fine dear, they're just a little shy is all. Give them a moment or two and I'm sure they'll open up to you. I've taken good care of them and they're happy here. They may just be worried that you'll take them away." Mrs. Wakefield said to Emily, trying to reassure her that everything was indeed alright.
Emily stood there, mouth agape, and stared. Her eyes darting between the still husks sitting in the chairs and the smiling old woman in front of her. Her hands shaking in rage and fear. Unable to offer up any words to address Mrs. Wakefield's pronouncement of normalcy, she just stood. Her mind trying to reconcile the disparity of reality from the dark soothings of Mrs. Wakefield.
Moments later sirens could be heard and then officers rushed in through the open front door. They quickly reached Emily, now just a quivering mess of emotion. The officers took one look at the scene before one raised his arm over his nose. The other placed Mrs. Wakefield in handcuffs.
Regaining his composer, the officer who had covered his face grabbed the radio on his shoulder and requested additional police presence, as well as a medical examiner. Then, he looked over at Emily.
"Ma'am, we're going to take the old lady to the station. We'd like you to come to answer some questions. The ME will be here soon to handle...the children." He looked at Emily somberly.
She nodded, unsure of what else to do, and followed the officers out to their cars. Fortunately, Mrs. Wakefield was placed into a different car which drove away quickly. Emily enjoyed only a brief moment of relief, she didn't want to sit next to that monster. Instead, Emily got in the other officer's squad car and they waited for the medical examiner and other police to arrive. When they did, the officer stepped out and talked briefly to his compatriots before returned to the car.
"We're going to the station now, Ms. Baker. We'll get this sorted out." he said to her, looking at her in the rear view mirror. "And for what it's worth, I am sorry."
Emily offered the officer a timid smile and they drove in silence. Emily sobbed quietly to herself. She had failed these kids in the worst way imaginable. It was her duty to place them in a loving environment and she thought she had. But, instead of finding two happy children today, she found only death. No future awaited Libby and Tyler. Emily had unknowingly ushered them straight into the arms of death. Its steely scythe swiping them away from existence, taking them to somewhere else.
They arrived at the station and the officer escorted her into a small conference room. He offered her coffee, which she declined. She was in no mood for the consumption of anything. Her insides felt hollow and devoid as she remembered what she saw sitting in those chairs. A minute later a detective entered the room. Emily rose to greet him.
"Ms. Baker, my name is Detective Bell. I want to ask you a few questions about what you saw today." He said after shaking her hand and finding a seat for himself.
Emily closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. Her heartbeat echoing through her skull. Then, she recanted the story of Mrs. Wakefield. All she had learned about her, her meetings with her, the bread, the children. Everything she knew she poured out to the detective. Tears streaming down her face like silent testimony. When she finished, she looked up at the detective. He was furiously scribbling in his notepad. His face scrunched together in concentration and a hint of anger.
"That checks out with what we found." He said to her finally. "We think the odor you described as 'old person smell' was actually the scent of long dead bodies. I'm sorry, there's really no way you could have known."
"Wh-what happens now?" Emily asked; her cheeks blackened with running eye shadow.
"I'd like you to come with me. We have Mrs. Wakefield in Interrogation One." He motioned for Emily to follow her.
Detective Bell led Emily through the station, passing the bullpen where other officers worked on paperwork, and finally to the interrogation rooms. He opened the door for Emily. Inside was the police chief, another detective, and a woman in a gray pantsuit.
"Emily, I'm Chief Watson. This is Detective Sterns and our psychologist, Dr. Weber." The larger man introduced himself.
Emily entered the room and saw Mrs. Wakefield on the other side of the glass, sitting at a table with another detective. She was obviously upset and crying, but Emily couldn't hear what she was saying. The speakers to the room had been shut off.
Detective Bell quickly gave the others a summary of what Emily had told him. They looked at each other and nodded.
"Emily, from what the ME is saying it sounds like Tyler and Libby were poisoned. We hope that they died quickly, but we won't know that until we have done a full autopsy." Chief Watson explained. "Our best guess is that Mrs. Wakefield poisoned them and they died in their sleep. We think she then arranged the children around the house in some twisted little fantasy emulating real life."
"We've turned off the speakers for now." Dr. Weber chimed in, "All we are hearing is the insane ramblings from a shattered mind. My initial thoughts is that she poisoned the kids so she would never lose them. So she could have them at this age forever and go about "caring" for them indefinitely. I won't really know much more until I have a time to speak with her myself. But at this point, I don't expect to learn anything useful. She clearly isn't in a right state of mind."
Emily nodded and looked into the interrogation room. "How do you think she poisoned them?"
"We suspect she put something in a dish she cooked or baked for the kids." Detective Sterns said. "Our guys are cataloguing all the ingredients in the home, as well as any food left in the fridge."
Emily gasped, recalling the darkened bread left in her hotel room. "I-I ate some bread she baked..." Her voice trailed off.
Chief Watson's eyes grew larger and he reached for his radio. "I need medical to interrogation one, NOW!" He yelled into the device. "Emily, sit down. We'll get you to the hospital and make sure you weren't poisoned too. It's going to be alright."
Emily sat in the chair offered by Detective Bell, once again shivering. How could this get any worse? What other torment lies in store for her today?
She took one last look at Mrs. Wakefield before the EMT's arrived with a gurney. Laying on it, the medical technicians wheeled her away and wrapped a blood pressure cuff on her. They also gave her an oxygen mask, just in case. Her view upwards, she passed florescent light after florescent light until she was outside briefly before being loaded into an ambulance.
The technician inside tried talking to Emily, but her mind was elsewhere. Thinking of the children. Thinking of what she had done wrong to bring them to their fate. Thinking of what might happen to her, if she was poisoned too.
Emily didn't notice she was given some sort of injection, but her vision grew cloudy and her mind conjured up horrible images of dead children and monsters chasing them. Powerless to stop any of it, Emily fell into some twilight slumber. Wondering all the while if death was here to claim her too. No, that couldn't be her end. She had to get justice for Libby and Tyler. Justice for herself. She had to account for the lives she placed into Mrs. Wakefield's insane embrace.
There was so much more she should have done, she thought to herself.
But what could she have done?