Interrogation, fiction by Terena Elizabeth Bell
S he was just the cutest little thing. I saw her when she came in the bank and I thought, Maggie, I thought to myself, Maggie, if that little girl isn’t one of the most adorable kids you’ve ever seen, hair all done up in that ribbon. I’m a childcare professional, you know. Oh no, not like that, I’m not licensed or anything, I just keep little ones at home. Four or five. Any more than that at once, it’s a bit much. You’re not going to turn me into the city or anything, are you? We’re not really zoned but I do have those plastic things in the outlets. Don’t want them to stick a fork in there, you know? Baby gates, those little latch things that go on the cabinets – my husband hates them, but Frank, I said, Frank, it keeps them from getting in your medicine and the trash and everything else and if any of those little ones did that, wouldn’t we have a mess on our hands? Can you imagine? Oh yes, the girl. Listen, officer, I’m not sure how to put this more clearly: I have nothing to...