"Emily said she took a piece of bread because she was hungry. And you told her thieves needed to be punished."
"She's lying!" Rachel blurted out, her voice pitching an octave higher. "She's a troubled kid, Jack! You know she is! Ever since her mother died, she makes things up. She wants attention!"
Before I could react, the hospital social worker stepped smoothly into the doorway, cutting Rachel off. "Ma'am, I am a mandated reporter with the state. Based on the symmetrical nature of the burns on Emily's palms, and the complete lack of splash marks on her arms or chest, the medical evidence does not support a boiling water spill. These are contact burns. Someone pressed her hands against a scorching flat surface."
Rachel’s face drained of color. The cashmere sweater suddenly looked like a costume she was drowning in. "You... you don't know what you're talking about. I'm her mother!"