Look, I suggested to the social workers. I could show them the house, especially Ashley’s bedroom and Mike’s office. I could let them see for themselves what I meant. Margret eagerly agreed to come with me while Dena said she wanted to speak to the children herself.

Setting out to prove we were following the law, I led Margret to the bedroom Ashley slept in and demonstrated how the alarm worked. See? It was an alarm, not a door lock. The bars on the window were maybe a little extreme, but what were we supposed to do? She had friends who had helped her escape in the past, and if not for the bars, we were encouraging her to sneak out whenever she wished.

Margret asked to see Mike’s office, and I took her downstairs. This was where things could get dicey, and I said I had found some pictures of half-naked actresses just the other day, but Ashley told me herself that her father hadn’t shown her any porn. The CPS worker asked what I meant by “half-naked”, and when I described the images of the well-known women, she said it wasn’t porn and no big deal. I unlocked the office door, and we stepped inside. To my un-surprise, the figure on the screen-saver was totally different than the one I’d seen of Ashley wreathed in cigarette smoke. The picture now on the monitor was a photo of Mike and Ashley sitting side by side, and there was nothing lurid about it. Also as expected, Mike had passworded the computer so I couldn’t log on, and no, I didn’t know the password.

Margret asked me about my relationship with Mike, and I said it was strained. We had different parenting styles, and we argued, mostly over the way to handle Ashley. While I'd always been a little lenient with her to compensate for Mike's harshness, he had done a complete turn-around. Currently, he was treating her with less consequences than I thought best. Margret nodded and made notes, mentioning how Ashley had also complained about the way we fought in front of her.

"No surprise to me," I responded. And I explained how every time Mike and I tried to discuss anything in private, Ashley was right there, listening in, convinced we were talking about her. It didn’t make any difference where we went in the house, she followed us everywhere and listened at doors. There was never an opportunity to have a private conversation.

The ringing phone interrupted our talk, and Ashley was on the phone again. She said that she and Dad weren’t coming home right away. It seemed that Mike had something to do that would take most of the day, and she felt she needed to be with Dad for now. Maybe they’d get a hotel or something, but neither of them felt up to answering any questions. And she hung up.

I felt sort of numb. Margret asked what was wrong, and I relayed the conversation. She got this shocked look on her face and responded how inappropriate it was for a grown man and a teenaged girl to share a motel room. I said I was more worried than anything else. Wondering aloud, I said that maybe it was possible that they might panic and run off. Or with Mike’s frame of mind, who could tell what he’d do next? Margret replied that, in her opinion, the sheriff’s department needed to be immediately contacted to be on the lookout for Mike’s car, and she whipped out her cellphone to make the call. The social workers then left, asking me to let them know immediately if I heard from my husband or daughter. Margret said that Mike was not allowed back in the house. As far as CPS was concerned, he had molested Ashley and was a danger to the family.