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Walking over to where the little girls played, I sat down next to Dani. I wouldn’t punish her for what I was feeling. So, I sat on the floor and watched as she played.

For an hour, I observed the four little girls and how they interacted with each other. Occasionally casting glances back toward the couches where the women sat talking.

About me, no doubt.

As a psychologist who worked with children, many of my hours in sessions was spent observing how they played. How they interacted with me, their parents, and any siblings they might have.

The dynamics of this group were quite interesting. Chrissy, who was the oldest, had told me she was five and didn’t have school today because it was Sunday. She was very smart for a five-year-old.

Then there was Charlie. She was four and a chatterbox. Charlie kept the group informed of everything that was happening inside the clubhouse. The names of some of the men had me questioning what her parents were thinking, letting her live here. Especially when she spoke about someone named Banshee.

Banshees were Irish folklore, but the part that concerned me was that they were predictors of death. I understood how bikers got their road names. I wondered how many people Banshee had killed.

Tabby was three, and Chrissy’s little sister. Ellie’s younger stepdaughter. I watched as she played quietly. She had a teddy bear that sat in her lap. No matter what she did, she never let it go. When Charlie tried to move the bear while they were building with blocks, Tabby grabbed it back and put it where it was.

That wasn’t unusual. Children often had security blankets and toys that were important. Items they didn’t want anyone else to touch.

What concerned me was that in the hour or so that I had been sitting here with them, Tabby hadn’t made a sound. Not a single word was spoken by the little girl. But no noises either. No grunts, no babbles.

Nothing.

I looked back at the women and saw Haizley staring at me. I knew that look. She was watching to see at what point I noticed the little girl. It should have been sooner, but I was distracted by my anger.

Anger at being here in the clubhouse.

Anger at Ellie, who clearly didn’t deserve it.

Hefting myself off the floor, I walked back over to the couch.

“Tabby doesn’t talk.” It was a statement, not a question. An observation.

“She does, some,” Ellie whispered quietly.

“Is she delayed?” I asked, my profession taking over.

“No.”

Ellie was giving me short answers. I knew she was upset with me. I wasn’t making a very good impression on these women, and I wasn’t sure why I was letting it bother me. I was only here for Dani.

“Ellie, Danny trusted her,” another woman said, taking Ellie’s hand in hers. “Maybe she can help.”

“Ellie, I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you.” My eyes dropped to my hands. I owed this woman the truth. “Dante asked me to come find you if I didn’t hear from him.” Her eyes bored into mine. “You have to understand, Dani has come to mean so much to me and I know that when her fathers come home, I will have to give her back. But until then, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

The front door opened, and another woman walked in. She looked around the room until her eyes focused on Dani.

“Is that?” She looked back at Ellie and when Ellie nodded, she walked over and scooped Dani off the floor, holding her close. “Where is he?”

“We still don’t know,” Ellie said, standing up and walking to the woman. “We don’t know anything about either of them.”

“Then how is she here?” Dani put her hands on the woman’s cheeks and smiled. She clearly knew her. And it took everything in me not to rush over and snatch her back.

“Jessie, this is my friend Melissa. She is a child psychologist in Oklahoma. Dani is staying with her.”

“Do you know where Dante is?” she asked.

I shook my head, unable to speak as I watched her hold my daughter. And she was my daughter. Until they came back for her.

“Wait, if she’s a kid’s shrink, can she help Tabby?” Jessie asked, looking at Ellie.