Chương 7
My mother asked.
I looked at her.
“Yesterday morning.”
She frowned.
“He came back after taking you to the hospital.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“He told me he had to run home for your insurance folder.”
My skin went cold.
“He never brought me an insurance folder.”
My mother’s face changed.
Neither of us said anything.
Priya heard enough through the phone.
“What am I missing?”
I told her.
Her answer was immediate.
“I’m leaving.”
“Take photographs first.”
“Claire.”
“Of the safe.”
“No.”
“Priya.”
“I am not turning your house into my crime scene hobby.”
“You don’t have to touch anything.”
“I’m taking the documents you specifically authorized me to take and leaving.”
Her voice softened.
“You need a professional for anything beyond that.”
She was right.
Again.
Everyone was infuriatingly right tonight.
“Fine.”
“I’ll photograph the safe from where I’m standing.”
“Thank you.”
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Your front door was locked when I got here.”
“That’s good.”
“Maybe.”
I heard her keys jingle.
“Because the alarm history says someone entered with Daniel’s code at 3:18 this afternoon.”
I looked at the clock beside my bed.
It was almost nine at night.
Daniel had been in Hawaii at 3:18.
“Who else knows his code?” Priya asked.
“No one.”
My mouth went dry.
Then I remembered.
“Vanessa.”
The name sat between us for a second like something dropped on glass.
Priya was the first to speak.
“Why would Vanessa know your home alarm code?”
“Daniel gave it to her.”
My mother’s face hardened.
“You knew that?”
“No.”
“But you just said—”
“I saw it in a message once.”
The memory came back with annoying clarity.
Two months earlier, Daniel had left his phone on the kitchen counter while he showered, and a preview from Vanessa had flashed across the screen.
Got the code, thanks.
I had assumed it was for the office supply room because Daniel had been complaining about reorganizing storage that week.
I had not opened the message.
At the time, I had been proud of myself for respecting his privacy.
Now I felt stupid enough to taste metal.
“Could she have been at your house today?” Priya asked.
“She’s in Hawaii.”
“With Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Then who used the code?”
“I don’t know.”
My mother stood up.
“I’m calling the police.”
“No.”
She turned on me.
“Someone entered your house.”
“With a valid code.”
“That doesn’t make it less creepy.”
“It makes it complicated.”
Priya cut in.
“She’s right about one thing.”
“Which one?”
“You need to document it.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Can you check the alarm app for camera history?”
“We don’t have cameras.”
My mother looked at me as if I had personally betrayed suburban America.
“No doorbell camera?”
“Daniel hated them.”
“Of course he did.”
That sentence landed harder than she intended.
Daniel had always called exterior cameras paranoid.
He said people who recorded their porches were inviting fear into their homes.
I had accepted that because it sounded philosophical instead of convenient.
“Priya, leave,” I said.
“I’m already at the door.”
“Lock everything.”
“I know how doors work.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I heard the deadbolt turn through the phone.
Then she said, “I’ll bring your documents to the hospital tomorrow morning.”
“Take them to your place tonight.”
“Claire—”
“Please.”
She went quiet.
“All right.”
“And don’t tell anyone you have them.”
“Now you’re making me nervous.”
“Good.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I’m sorry.”
She exhaled.
“Get some sleep.”
Everyone had apparently conspired around that impossible idea.
After we hung up, my mother resumed pacing.
“I still think someone should call the police.”
“And say what?”
“That somebody entered your house and took your financial records.”
“We don’t know when the drive disappeared.”
“You just said you keep it in the safe.”
“I do.”
“So?”
“So I haven’t looked for it in weeks.”
She stopped pacing.
That irritated her because she wanted a clean emergency with a clean action.
So did I.
“I could have moved it.”
“Did you?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t move important things and forget.”
“I gave birth today, Mom.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Right.”
The apology in her face annoyed me too.
I did not want everyone becoming gentle with me.
Gentleness made everything feel worse.
Marisol returned with pain medication and a plastic cup of water.
I took both without arguing this time.
“Progress,” she said.
“I’m learning obedience.”
“No, you’re losing energy.”
“That too.”
She checked Lily’s diaper and handed her to my mother while adjusting my IV.
I watched my mother cradle her granddaughter with one hand beneath Lily’s head and the other spread over her tiny back.
For all her noise, my mother became almost silent around babies.
“You used to hold me like that?” I asked.
She glanced at me.
“No, I held you by one ankle.”
Marisol laughed.
My mother looked pleased with herself.
“You screamed for three months,” she said.
“I had colic.”
“You had opinions.”
“I still do.”
“That part survived.”
For three ordinary minutes, we talked about whether Lily’s hair would stay dark.
My mother insisted newborn hair always fell out.
Marisol said sometimes it did.
I argued that mine had not.
Nobody mentioned Daniel.
It was the closest I came to feeling like the day belonged to Lily instead of to what her father had done.
Then my phone vibrated again.
A message from Vanessa.
Can you talk?
I stared at it.
My mother saw.
“Her?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t answer.”
“I need to know about the alarm.”
“Then ask her.”
I typed, Did you give anyone Daniel’s home alarm code today?
The reply came almost instantly.
No.
Then another.
Why?
I wrote, Someone entered the house using his code at 3:18.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Reappeared.
Finally, she sent, Oh my God.
I waited.
Another message arrived.
I gave the code to Mark.
“Who the hell is Mark?” my mother asked after I showed her.
“I don’t know.”
Vanessa called before I could respond.
May you like
I answered.
“Who is Mark?”
