Chương 8
There had to be a version in which the boy I raised remained somewhere inside the man who had stood outside the laundry-room door.
I answered.
“Mom.”
His voice was ragged.
I said nothing.
“Are you at the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Is she okay?”
“Why did you text me about the medicine?”
A pause.
“Because I remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
“That Victoria gave her something sometimes when she couldn’t sleep.”
“You told police you didn’t know.”
“I was confused.”
“You told the paramedic you didn’t know.”
“Everything was happening at once.”
“What medicine?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did Victoria get it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
His breathing changed.
“Mom, I need you to stop treating me like I’m the enemy.”
“Chloe said you put it in her juice.”
“She’s six.”
The sentence was so quick that I stopped breathing.
Not she is mistaken.
Not she misunderstood.
Not I would never.
She’s six.
Julian hurried on.
“She was sick and scared and sedated, and kids mix things up.”
“Did you put medicine in her juice?”
“I helped Victoria give her prescribed medication.”
“Prescribed by whom?”
“Kaminski.”
“Who is he?”
“Our doctor.”
“Where is his office?”
Another pause.
“Why?”
“Because the address on Chloe’s death paperwork is vacant.”
Julian went silent.
In the background I heard a door close and someone tell him he had two minutes.
“Who told you that?”
“Does it matter?”
“Mom, you’re talking to police about things you don’t understand.”
“I’m talking to everyone now.”
“That is exactly what Victoria was afraid of.”
The anger in his voice arrived before he could stop it.
I sat forward.
“What was Victoria afraid of?”
“She wasn’t afraid.”
“You just said she was.”
“I mean she was afraid you would interfere.”
“With what?”
“Our decisions.”
“What decisions require a fake doctor?”
“He isn’t fake.”
“Then where is he?”
“I don’t know where he is tonight.”
“Where does he practice?”
Julian exhaled hard.
“This is becoming ridiculous.”
“My granddaughter was inside a coffin.”
“Stop saying it like that.”
I looked at Margaret.
She had heard him through the phone.
Her face went still.
“How should I say it?”
“You make it sound like we buried her alive.”
“You almost did.”
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“No, the burial wasn’t supposed to happen.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
Morales looked at me sharply.
Margaret leaned closer.
“What does that mean?”
Julian said nothing.
“Julian.”
“It means there was supposed to be more time.”
“For what?”
“I can’t talk about this on the phone.”
“You have been talking.”
“Mom.”
“For what?”
Someone spoke in the background again.
Julian whispered something I could not hear.
Then he returned.
“Victoria said Chloe would wake up before morning.”
Every sound around me seemed to recede.
I stood.
“You knew she was alive.”
“No.”
“You knew.”
“I thought she would wake up.”
“That means you knew.”
“I thought the medication slowed everything down.”
“Everything?”
“Her breathing.”
“Why?”
“Mom, please.”
“Why did you need anyone to think she was dead?”
He started crying.
This time I was sure.
It did not help him.
“I didn’t want this.”
“What did you want?”
“I wanted it to stop.”
“What?”
“All of it.”
“That means nothing.”
“I was going to fix it.”
“By putting your daughter in a casket?”
“I didn’t put her in there.”
“Who did?”
No answer.
“Victoria?”
Still nothing.
“Kaminski?”
Julian inhaled shakily.
“You need to understand, Chloe wasn’t supposed to stay there.”
“Then where was she supposed to go?”
The line went quiet.
I looked at Morales.
He was already writing.
“Julian.”
His voice returned much lower.
“Somewhere Victoria could take her.”
My skin went cold.
“Take her where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I swear I don’t.”
“Why fake her death if she was staying here?”
“She wasn’t.”
That was the first unguarded answer he had given me.
I nearly dropped the phone.
“Where was Victoria taking her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because people were asking questions.”
“Who?”
“The school.”
I closed my eyes.
“What questions?”
“Attendance.”
“That’s all?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly is not all.”
“A nurse noticed bruises.”
There it was.
One more ordinary system that had almost worked.
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“What did you do?”
“I talked to them.”
“You lied to them.”
“I explained.”
“What?”
“That she had a medical issue.”
“Did she?”
“She was anxious.”
“About what?”
Julian stopped answering.
The silence told me more than I wanted.
“About home?”
“I never hurt her.”
I sat down again.
“What did Victoria do?”
“She was overwhelmed.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“She lost her temper sometimes.”
“With Chloe?”
“Mom, families have bad moments.”
“Did she tie her up?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I said no.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Julian’s voice hardened.
“You’re enjoying this.”
For a moment I could not speak.
“What?”
“You’ve never liked Victoria.”
Margaret muttered something beside me.
I held up one hand.
“You think I’m enjoying finding out my granddaughter was drugged?”
“I think part of you likes being right about her.”
The ugliness of it struck because there was a grain of something recognizable underneath.
I had disliked Victoria.
I had judged her immaculate house, her clipped voice, her way of correcting Julian in front of people.
I had occasionally imagined the satisfaction of hearing him admit I had seen her clearly.
But not like this.
Never purchased with Chloe.
“You are trying to make me ashamed enough to stop asking questions.”
“I’m trying to make you fair.”
“Was Chloe supposed to wake up in the casket?”
“No.”
“When?”
“Before you found her.”
“Who was going to get her out?”
No answer.
“Julian.”
“Victoria.”
“And then?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“Was Victoria going to tell everyone Chloe had been cremated?”
His silence changed.
Margaret saw my face.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
I had guessed correctly.
Julian said, “There was going to be an urn.”
My stomach turned.
May you like
“And Chloe?”
“Victoria said she had somewhere safe.”
