Chapter 5 - The Paper Trail
At 6:00 AM, the sun had not yet risen over St. Paul, but I was already sitting at my kitchen island with a notebook, a cup of black coffee, and the manila envelope containing the twelve notes.
I handled the paper carefully. The handwriting was neat, but as the dates progressed from September into late October, the script became shaky, erratic, and punctuated by small, dried smudges that looked suspiciously like tears.
I lined the notes up chronologically across the quartz countertop:
Sept 14: "Working double shift at the laundry. $40 on counter."
Oct 02: "Clinic visit took longer. Dr. Miller says my lungs need rest. Feed twins every 3 hours."
Oct 18: "Vance took the rent money again. Do not open the door for anyone."
Oct 21: "If I am not back by morning, call the number on the back of this paper. Ask for Sarah."
I flipped the October 21st note over. Written in dark red ink was a phone number with a local 651 area code, and a name: Sarah Miller - Hennepin County Social Services.
My heart dropped. The mother knew she was dying or being taken away, and she had tried to leave a lifeline for her eight-year-old child.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the number. It went straight to a county voicemail system. I left a concise, urgent message stating my name, my legal credentials, and the fact that I had Emily, Owen, and Miles Holloway in my protective custody following an abandoned unit crisis on Maple Street.
By 8:00 AM, Emily walked into the kitchen wearing a pair of oversized sweatpants and a grey t-shirt I had pulled from my gym bag the night before. Her face was washed, her hair brushed, though she still carried the rusted cash box under her arm like a security blanket.
"Good morning," I said, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast on the counter. "How did you sleep?"
"Good," she said softly, smelling the food. "The babies are still sleeping."
"Let them sleep. Their bodies need to catch up," I said, pulling a chair out for her. "Emily, while you were resting, I looked at the notes your mom left."
She froze, her fork hovering over the eggs. "Are you going to take them away?"
"No," I said firmly. "Those are your notes. But the last note had a phone number for a woman named Sarah at the county office. Do you know who Sarah is?"
Emily swallowed hard, her eyes dropping to the cash box on her lap. "She came to the house once. When the babies were born. She told Mommy that if things got too hard, she could help us find a bigger place. But Mommy was scared Sarah would take us away and put us in different houses."
"Nobody is separating you from your brothers, Emily," I said, looking her dead in the eye. "I give you my word as a lawyer and as a man. If anyone tries to split you three up, they have to go through me first."
Before she could answer, my phone rang on the counter. The caller ID read: Hennepin County Medical Center.
I answered instantly. "Grant Holloway."
"Mr. Holloway, this is Social Worker Sarah Miller," a tired female voice said through the speaker. "I received your message regarding the Miller children. Where are they right now?"
"They are safe at my home," I said, stepping into the living room out of Emily's earshot. "I bought them food, cleared them from an illegal lockout on Maple Street last night, and brought them here. Where is their mother, Sarah?"
May you like
A heavy, painful silence echoed over the line.
"Laura Miller was admitted to our intensive care unit ten days ago with severe pneumonia and systemic sepsis," Sarah Miller said quietly. "She fell into a coma four days ago. Mr. Holloway... Laura passed away two hours ago."
