Annabel Lee ─ emily prentiss

twelve

IT DID not occur to Emily until she was halfway through her drive to New York on the twenty-third that Bel's foster parents might not want Bel to spend time with her. The Howells were not exactly her biggest fans. They were pissed the first time she knocked on their door. The second time, Carrie nearly took her head off, and all of that was over Emily wanting to ask them a few questions. If she showed up and asked to take Bel for the day? That could go south really quick, now that she thought about it.

Up until now, Emily had been so caught up in everything that she didn't think too hard about how this would go over. She was too focused on getting a good gift and finding a place to stay less than a week before Christmas and contemplating what they would do in that time. In the fantasy land her brain created, the Howells' negligent, out of sight, out of mind attitude about Bel meant it would be easy to convince them to let Emily take Bel off their hands. As reality got closer, the more flaws she saw in that plan.

When she made it to Dutchess County, Emily stopped at her hotel first. She told herself it was to make life easier by dropping off all her stuff before going to meet Bel, but really, it was so she could psychologically pull herself together. This time, she couldn't use her FBI badge to force her way into the house. She had to remain calm, reasonable, and firm if she wanted any chance of getting her way with these people.

"Calm, reasonable, but firm," Emily repeated to herself as she sat in her parked car outside the Howell house. She quickly texted Bel, "here" before getting out and hurrying up the front path, desperately trying not to lose her nerve. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Thirty seconds later, the door swung swiftly open.

"What are you doing back here?" If looks could kill, Carrie's glare would be a bullet between Emily's eyes. "The case is over. There are no more questions to ask us."

"I'm not here about the case." Calm, reasonable, firm. "I'm here to see Bel. I'm in town for the next few days, and I was hoping I could take her off your hands for a little while today."

In the corner of her eye, Emily saw Bel creep into the room. Jesus, the kid looked so sad.

"She just happened to be on your mind?" Carrie scoffed. "What does the FBI want now?"

"I'm not here with the FBI."

Bel jumped in; she couldn't leave Emily to face the firing squad alone. "Please? I'll do whatever chores you want first."

Both Carrie and Fred, who was for once loading the dishwasher himself, suddenly noticed her presence. She saw the gears turning in Carrie's head.

"You knew about this," Carrie growled at Bel. Her fingers curled into fists. "You little weasel. What have you told her? She's the one who called CPS, wasn't she?"

"I–" Bel was unable to finish. Every part of her, from her feet to her tongue, froze with fear as Fred hurled the plate he was holding at her in a rage. She couldn't make herself move. The plate crashed into her stomach before shattering at her feet.

"You ungrateful little bitch." The Howells were the kinds of Catholics who never swore. Fred was mad mad. "We treated you like family. We put a roof over your head and food on your plate, and this is how you treat us?"

This was Emily's last straw. She wouldn't let Bel stay here another minute. Her brain made up a half-baked plan on the fly: she would get Bel to pack up all her stuff, then they would get the fuck out of dodge, and Emily would call Bel's social worker. If that didn't work, she would go straight to CPS. Bel was never setting foot in the Howell house again. Was it a good plan? Probably not, but she saw no better options.

She pushed past Carrie into the house and hurried over to Bel, positioning herself so that Fred would have to go through her if he wanted to get to Bel.