Chương 6
Had I asked Hannah to call me Mom?
Tessa answered every question.
Some answers were lies.
Some were distortions.
A few frightened me because they contained information she could only have gotten from somewhere close to the case.
I reached one message and stopped.
You should ask Claire why Hannah had a panic attack after the school open house.
My throat tightened.
The open house had been in April.
Hannah had not had a panic attack there.
She had become overwhelmed after seeing a woman near the gym entrance who resembled Tessa from behind.
She locked herself in a bathroom stall for twenty minutes.
Only four people knew the full reason.
Me.
Hannah.
Marisol.
And Hannah’s therapist.
Diane watched my face.
“What?”
I showed her the message.
“Did you tell Tessa about the open house?”
“No.”
“Did anybody in this family know?”
“Grandma knew Hannah had a rough night afterward,” I said.
Grandma shook her head from the porch.
“I didn’t know why.”
Hannah stood beside me.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
I hated the phrase now.
It sounded evasive even when it was the truth.
Noah got to his feet.
“Could she have followed you then too?”
The idea made Hannah’s face change.
“No.”
She said it too quickly.
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“She couldn’t have.”
“How do you know?”
Her eyes moved to the ground.
“Hannah.”
She folded her arms.
“I saw her.”
The driveway went silent.
“At the open house?”
She nodded.
My skin prickled.
“You told me you thought you saw somebody who looked like her.”
“I knew it was her.”
“Did she talk to you?”
Hannah did not answer.
I felt my voice sharpen.
“Hannah, did she speak to you?”
“Yes.”
Diane whispered, “Oh my God.”
I barely heard her.
“What did she say?”
Hannah’s shoulders rose.
“She told me not to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d make her leave.”
“Where did she talk to you?”
“By the gym.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was anybody with her?”
“No.”
“Did she touch you?”
Hannah recoiled.
“No.”
The recoil made me stop.
I had turned concern into interrogation in less than thirty seconds.
She had noticed.
Of course she had.
“I’m sorry.”
I lowered my voice.
“You don’t have to answer everything right now.”
“You already asked.”
“I know.”
She rubbed her forearm.
“What did she say to you?”
This time I asked gently.
Hannah looked toward Diane’s phone.
“She said she was getting better.”
I waited.
“She said people had told the judge things that weren’t true.”
“What things?”
“That she didn’t try.”
Hannah swallowed.
“She said she called me a bunch of times and you wouldn’t let her talk to me.”
“That isn’t true.”
“I know.”
The answer surprised me.
“How?”
“Because she showed me her phone.”
Hannah looked embarrassed.
“There were calls.”
My mind moved too quickly.
Calls to what number?
When?
Why had nobody told me?
“She had Marisol’s old office number saved under my name.”
Hannah’s mouth twisted.
“I recognized it.”
Something inside me eased and tightened at once.
“So you knew she was lying.”
“About that.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
She looked up.
“You didn’t tell me about the court thing.”
The symmetry was not exact.
It did not need to be.
To Hannah, both secrets had grown from the same fear.
If I tell the truth, something changes.
If I wait, maybe I can keep everybody where they are.
“What else did she say?”
“She asked if I was happy with you.”
Diane closed her eyes briefly.
“And what did you say?”
Hannah kicked a pebble off the curb.
“I said mostly.”
Despite everything, Grandma barked a laugh from the porch.
I looked at Hannah.
“Mostly?”
“You make lentils too much.”
“That is devastating feedback.”
She almost smiled.
Then it disappeared.
“She asked if you ever yelled.”
I waited.
“I said sometimes.”
Fair.
“She asked if you made me call you Mom.”
“I never did.”
“I told her that.”
Hannah’s face tightened.
“She started crying.”
Noah sat down again.
Nobody interrupted.
“She said she was still my mother even if everybody wanted me to forget.”
Hannah’s eyes filled now.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that she blinked more often.
“I told her I didn’t forget.”
I looked away for a second because that sentence belonged to Tessa too.
Whatever else she had done, whatever damage existed between them, she was part of Hannah’s life before I was.
Love did not become counterfeit because it had failed to keep a child safe.
“She gave me a number.”
Hannah reached into the pocket of her jeans.
My breath caught.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper so worn along the creases that it had clearly been opened many times.
On it was a phone number written in blue ink.
I did not take it.
“How long have you had that?”
“Since April.”
“Have you called?”
She looked at me.
“Twice.”
The answer hurt in a place I had not prepared.
Not because she called her mother.
Because for months she had done it alone.
“Did she answer?”
“The first time.”
“What happened?”
“We talked.”
“About what?”
“Stuff.”
I nodded.
Stuff was enough for now.
“The second time?”
“She didn’t answer.”
Hannah’s thumb moved over the paper.
“She texted later from a different number.”
My attention sharpened.
“What did the text say?”
“She said she couldn’t talk because people were watching her.”
Diane shifted.
“That sounds like what she told me.”
I turned toward her.
“What exactly did she tell you about people watching her?”
Diane unlocked the phone again and searched.
“She said the county had decided the outcome already.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“There was another message.”
She scrolled.
Then her expression changed.
“What?”
Diane held the screen toward me.
Tessa had written it six days ago.
I know Claire thinks I’m following them, but I’m not the only one trying to find Hannah.
Cold moved through my chest.
May you like
“What does that mean?”
“I never asked.”
