In her latest ripped-from-the-headlines tour de force, New York Times bestselling author Heather Gudenkauf shows how one small mistake can have life-altering consequences
Veteran social worker Ellen Moore has seen the worst side of humanitythe vilest acts one person can commit against another. She is a fiercely dedicated childrens advocate and a devoted mother and wife. But one blistering summer day, a simple moment of distraction will have repercussions that Ellen could never have imagined, threatening to shatter everything she holds dear, and trapping her between the gears of the system she works for.
Meanwhile, ten-year-old Jenny Briard has been living with her well-meaning but irresponsible father since her mother left them, sleeping on friends couches and moving in and out of cheap motels. When Jenny suddenly finds herself on her own, she is forced to survive with nothing but a few dollars and her street smarts. The last thing she wants is a social worker, but when Ellens and Jennys lives collide, little do they know just how much they can help one another.
A powerful and emotionally charged tale about motherhood and justice, Little Mercies is a searing portrait of the tenuous grasp we have on the things we love the most, and of the ties that unexpectedly bring us together.
Praise for Heather Gudenkauf
Brilliantly constructed, this will have you gripped until the last page
Closer
Deeply moving and lyricalit will haunt you all summer
Company
5 stars: Gripping and moving
Heat
Her technique is faultless, sparse and simple, and is a masterclass in how to construct a thriller A memorable readA technical triumph
Sunday Express
Its totally gripping
Marie Claire
Tension builds as family secrets tumble from the closet
Woman & Home
Set to become a book group staple
The Guardian
Deeply moving and exquisitely lyrical, this is a powerhouse of a debut novel.
Tess Gerritsen, No. 1 Sunday Times bestselling author
Fans of Jodi Picoult will devour this great thriller.
Red Magazine
Heart-pounding suspense and a compelling family drama come together to create a story you wont be able to put down. Youll stay up all night long reading. I did!
Diane Chamberlain, bestselling author of The Midwifes Confession
A great thriller, probably the kind of book a lot of people would choose to read on their sun loungers. It will appeal to fans of Jodi Picoult.
Radio Times
A real page-turner
Womans Own
HEATHER GUDENKAUF is the critically acclaimed and New York Times bestselling author of The Weight of Silence,These Things Hidden and One Breath Away. Her debut novel, The Weight of Silence, was picked for The TV Bookclub. She lives in Iowa with her family.
Read more about Heather and her novels at www.HeatherGudenkauf.com.
Also by Heather Gudenkauf
THE WEIGHT OF SILENCE
THESE THINGS HIDDEN
ONE BREATH AWAY
Little Mercies
Heather
Gudenkauf
For my brothers and sisters
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Praise for Heather Gudenkauf
About the Author
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Endpages
Copyright
Chapter 1
When people find out what I do for a living their first question is always about the most horrendous case of child abuse Ive encountered. I can be at a backyard barbecue or at a New Years Eve party or in the waiting room at the dentists office, or my husbands baseball game. You must see so much, they say, shaking their heads, lips pursed in something like empathy, like I was the one who might have endured the beatings, the burns, the torrents of hateful words. Of course I dont share any details about my clients and their families. So much has been stripped from the children that stagger in and out of my orbit; the very least I can do is honor their privacy. Come on, people urge, tell me. Its bad, isnt it? Like Im dangling some salacious gossip in front of them. Like Im keeping mum because I dont want to offend their tender ears, upset their perfectly ordered worlds where all children are touched with gentle hands, spoken to with loving words and tucked warmly into beds with full stomachs.
Close your eyes, I once told the shortstops mother and she did, almost quivering in anticipation of the gory details. She nodded in compliance, cocking her head in my direction, preparing for what I will reveal next. Will I tell her about Mariah Crane, the seven-year-old whose mother held her head under water until there was no chance that her damaged brain could ever catch up with her growing body? Or will I tell them about the twins? Everyone has heard about the Twin Case, as its still known. Everyone wants to know more about the twins.
Now imagine the vilest things that can be done to a human being, I say. I let her think about this for a moment and I can see the slight spasm of revulsion skitter across her face. Thats what Ive seen. She opens one eye to see if Ill say anything else. But thats all I have for her.
The only people I talk to about the Twin Case are my husband and Joe Gaddey. I was a newly minted social worker, just out of graduate school when I moved back to my hometown of Cedar City, the second largest city in Iowa, just behind Des Moines with a population of about one hundred ninety-five thousand. My husband moved to Cedar City to teach high school history and coach baseball, having grown up in the tiny town of Broken Branch, Iowa, where everyone is related, if not by blood then by marriage. We met through mutual friends and eventually settled into married life, ready to change the world. In the end I have struggled to not let the case change me.
Adam and I hadnt even met yet when I was assigned my first social work case involving a set of six-year-old twin boys, a five-year-old girl, their mother, their father and a baseball bat. Only one of the boys survived. The family wasnt new to the system; I had inherited the case from my predecessor and arrived for the first of my scheduled visits just as the emergency personnel were bringing out the first stretcher. Joe Gaddey was the officer positioned outside the front door. In a daze I moved toward him.
And you are? he asked. I couldnt even speak, could only look up at him. I peeked around his solid girth, trying to peer into the house and was greeted with a terrible sight. I teetered on my high heels and grabbed on to his sleeve for support. Whoa, now, he said, steadying me. You dont want to see that.
Im their social worker, I said in a small voice. What happened?
Their dad happened, he said in that wry way I have grown to appreciate over the years. I swallowed back the bile that had collected in my throat, willing myself not to vomit. I knew this job would be difficult, even heartbreaking, but nothing, nothing, had prepared me for this. I felt the police officers gaze on me. He was massive. Six-three, two hundred and ten pounds of muscle, a thirty-six-year-old with a baby face and a sharp tongue. You going to be okay? he asked. We stood there for a moment. Me nodding my chin up and down like some maniacal bobblehead doll and the officer standing there uncomfortably. You should probably call your supervisor, he finally said as the second, third and fourth stretchers emerged, shrouded in black body bags, two of which were child-sized.
Yeah, I said, still nodding.
Every day I chronicle the monstrosities inflicted upon children in volumes of paperwork, in endless meetings, while testifying in court. I rarely talk to my husband about my clients anymore. He can see what kind of day Ive had by the look on my face, the sag of my shoulders, how quickly I make a beeline to the bottle of pinot grigio Ive reserved expressly for the more difficult days. On these days, Adam understands that there are no words and will gently replace my wineglass with our eleven-month-old daughter. Avery will wrap her chubby arms around my neck and press her petal-pink lips against my cheek so that I can smell the scent of apples on her breath. Whenever I come through the door its like Christmas, her birthday and the Fourth of July all at once, she is always so happy to see me. I could take comfort in this, and I do, but I see the same delight on the faces of the children I work with who are reunited with a mother or father. The same mothers or fathers who once slapped them so hard that teeth were loosened or grabbed them so roughly that bones were broken. In Avery I see the same spark thats in their eyes, the eruption of the same joyful grin. I knew youd come back to me, their faces say. I know the psychology behind thiswhy an abused child will run into the arms of their abuserbut it makes me sad.
There is one case I do not talk about anymore, one that I am not able to speak of, not to Adam, not even to Joe. It was a case that I knew would end badly... I felt it in my bones the moment I walked into the home, and I was right.
Madalyn Olmstead did not have an easy entrance into this world, nor did she have a gentle exit. Madalyn was born at Cedar City Hospital six years ago and spent the first ten days of her life in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for respiratory issues. I became involved when Madalyn was one and a home health-care nurse called my supervisor at the Department of Human Services and asked if someone could check in with Madalyn and her mother at their home. I was assigned the case. When pressed for details, the nurse was vague. Madalyn needs to use a nebulizer for her asthma, but her mother has a hard time remembering what I tell her. I think she might have trouble reading but is a quick learner when someone shows her what to do. She seems great with Madalyn. The nurse was quiet for a moment. Honestly, its the husband Im worried about. Its like when he comes into the room all the air is sucked out. She becomes tense and all her attention goes right to the husband. He acts like a jealous sibling or something. He has no interest in Madalyn but to complain about how much time his wife is spending with her. She seemed scared of him. Cant you just go over there and check? Id feel so much better.