Chương 3
Nathan closed the book.
In the hall, Mrs. Alvarez’s baby had begun crying. The teenage boy bounced the child badly, too fast and too high, until the older man with the cane told him to support the head.
“Is the heat working on this floor?” Nathan asked.
Every face turned toward him.
The older man said, “It’s August.”
“The hot water, then.”
The woman holding a grocery bag laughed once. “Now he asks.”
Nathan’s silver watch showed 3:11. The bank call was at four. Sunset would come a little after eight.
He had arrived at Briarwood Apartments expecting to spend fifteen minutes making an example of Sarah Carter. Daniel had told him that residents were testing the company’s resolve after a series of delayed filings. One visible enforcement action, Daniel said, would restore payment discipline throughout the building. Nathan had agreed. He had even chosen the red paper because white notices disappeared beneath pizza coupons and utility mail.
He left Apartment 4B unlocked, then changed his mind and asked the boy holding the baby to watch the door.
“Why?” the boy said.
“Because her things are inside.”
“You were going to put her things outside.”
Nathan met his eyes. “I was wrong.”
The boy shifted the baby to his other arm. “That supposed to fix it?”
“No.”
At the hospital, Lily sat in a molded plastic chair with her feet tucked beneath her. Mrs. Alvarez had found a pair of pink sandals in her apartment, too large by two sizes. They slapped the floor each time Lily moved.
Nathan stayed near the emergency department entrance until Mrs. Alvarez noticed him.
“You followed us.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He held out the rent envelope. “This belongs to Lily.”
Mrs. Alvarez took it without thanks. She counted the bills, then counted them again.
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“You didn’t add anything?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Lily watched through the glass doors leading to treatment rooms. “They won’t tell me if she woke up.”
“They’re working on her,” Mrs. Alvarez said.
“They said that before.”
Nathan sat three chairs away. He did not know whether being closer would seem threatening or whether being farther away would look like cowardice. He settled on the distance a stranger might choose at an airport.
A social worker came out twenty minutes later. Her name badge read MONICA REED. She crouched in front of Lily and explained that Sarah was breathing with help, that doctors were treating a serious infection, and that she would be moved upstairs if her condition became stable enough.
“Can I see her?”
“Not yet.”
“Is she going to die?”
Monica paused. “She is very sick. The doctors are doing everything they can.”
Lily looked down at Nathan’s handkerchief. A small red circle had spread through the white fabric.
“That means maybe,” she said.
Monica did not correct her.
The social worker asked about relatives. Lily named an aunt in Ohio but did not know the town. There was no father listed in the hospital’s emergency contact information, and Sarah’s phone had been shut off. Mrs. Alvarez offered to keep Lily overnight. Monica said the hospital would need to confirm arrangements and notify the appropriate child welfare contact because Sarah could not consent.
At those words, Lily’s entire body became still.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“No one is taking you anywhere right now,” Monica said.
“That’s what they said when they took Kayla.”
Mrs. Alvarez stroked the back of her head. “Kayla’s mother was gone a long time, baby.”
“My mother’s not gone.”
Monica asked Mrs. Alvarez to step aside with her.
Nathan remained in the chair.
Lily looked at him. “You can go.”
“I know.”
“You have a nice house.”
“Yes.”
“Go there.”
He almost did. The bank call had begun without him. His chief financial officer had sent three messages, each more carefully neutral than the last. The Briarwood loan was large enough that missing the meeting without explanation could be interpreted as panic. Panic raised questions. Questions changed terms.
Nathan silenced the phone.
“Your mother has rent receipts,” he said.
Lily’s expression sharpened. “Did you take them?”
“No.”
“You looked.”
“Yes.”
“She keeps them because Mr. Rusk lies.”
“Daniel Rusk?”
Lily nodded. “He says we don’t pay. Mom says never give cash without paper.”
“Did she give him seven hundred dollars last month?”
“No. She gave it to Mr. Denny.”
“Who is Mr. Denny?”
“The man downstairs. He fixes things, except he doesn’t.”
The building superintendent was Dennis Rowe. Nathan had met him twice. Daniel described him as slow but loyal.
“Did Mr. Denny give her the receipt?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see it happen?”
Lily frowned. “Why?”
“I need to understand.”
“Because you think she made it up.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You asked like the hospital people ask when they don’t believe you.”
Nathan folded his hands. “You’re right.”
Her surprise irritated her more than denial might have.
“She paid him at the door,” Lily said. “He counted it. He said Mr. Rusk would put it in the computer. Mom made him write the paper first.”
“Was anyone else there?”
“Me.”
“Anyone older?”
“I’m old enough to see money.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
A vending machine hummed beside them. Somewhere behind the treatment doors, a monitor began beeping rapidly, then stopped. Lily watched every person who entered the corridor.
Nathan’s phone vibrated again. This time the caller was his sister, Claire.
He answered.
“Where are you?” she asked. “Evan says you skipped the bank.”
“I’m at St. Matthew’s.”
“What happened?”
“A tenant collapsed.”
“And you’re at the hospital because?”
“I was there.”
Claire waited. “Nathan, what did you do?”
He disliked how quickly she had found the correct question.
“I delivered a notice.”
“Personally?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that?”
“To make a point.”
“To whom?”
He looked at Lily.
May you like
“To everyone.”
Claire breathed out. She was four years younger and had inherited their mother’s habit of becoming quieter when angry. Nathan had inherited their father’s opposite habit.
