Chương 6
“I need to talk about tonight.”
“My mother is coming.”
“She can be considered as part of the safety plan.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we have to be comfortable with where Lily is staying and who has access to her.”
“Rachel won’t.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too fast again.
Marisol did not challenge me immediately.
She waited.
I pictured our house keys.
Garage keypad.
Smart lock.
Rachel’s name on the deed.
Our joint bank account.
Her clothes in our bedroom.
Her toothbrush beside mine.
“No,” I said.
“I can’t guarantee it at our house.”
“Okay.”
“My mother’s place is different.”
“Does Rachel know the address?”
“Yes.”
“Does she have access?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any reason she would go there?”
“She knows my mother doesn’t like her.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I looked at Marisol.
The distinction annoyed me because it was useful.
“Yes.”
“She might think I’d go there.”
Marisol nodded.
“We can work with that.”
“What does work with that mean?”
“A plan.”
I almost laughed.
Everybody had a plan except me.
Marisol continued.
“It may mean you and Lily stay somewhere Rachel wouldn’t reasonably have access to for the next day or two while we assess further.”
“A hotel?”
“That’s one option.”
“I have to pay for a hotel?”
The question came out uglier than I intended.
Marisol did not blink.
“Yes, unless you have another safe placement.”
I felt ashamed immediately.
Money should not have mattered.
Money always mattered.
I had forty-three dollars in cash, a credit card with room, and enough savings to manage a hotel.
But our checking account was joint.
Most of our bills were automated.
Rachel knew every card we had.
The practical pieces of marriage suddenly looked like restraints.
“I can do a hotel.”
“Good.”
“For how long?”
“I can’t promise.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“I have work Monday.”
“I understand.”
“No, I mean I run the company.”
“What kind of company?”
“Residential remodeling.”
“Do you have employees?”
“Six.”
“Can someone cover?”
“Probably.”
Saying it made me think of Jeremy, my foreman, who had a habit of calling me whenever a client changed their mind about tile.
I could already hear his voice asking which grout color counted as an emergency.
I almost smiled.
Then Marisol said, “We also need to discuss whether you knew about the discipline.”
The word discipline irritated me.
“I didn’t.”
“Any of it?”
“I knew Rachel was stricter.”
“What did that mean to you?”
I told her about chores, screen time, homework, the occasional argument over attitude.
I admitted that Rachel sometimes sent Lily to her room.
I admitted that I had agreed with it.
Marisol asked whether I had ever seen Lily afraid to be alone with Rachel.
“No.”
Then I corrected myself.
“I don’t think I let myself see it.”
Marisol’s expression did not soften.
That helped.
I did not need forgiveness from a county employee in a hospital hallway.
I needed accuracy.
“She started asking whether I’d be home for dinner more often,” I said.
“When?”
“Maybe two months ago.”
“What did you think that meant?”
“That she missed me.”
“Maybe she did.”
The gentleness in that sentence hurt worse than accusation.
“I should have asked why.”
“Yes.”
I looked at her.
She held my gaze.
Not cruel.
Not comforting.
Just yes.
For the first time that night, someone allowed me to be both a mother trying to protect her child and a mother who had missed something important.
I leaned against the wall.
“What happens to Rachel?”
“That’s not something I decide.”
“Can she be arrested?”
“That would be law enforcement.”
“Can she come home?”
“If the home is jointly hers, that becomes more complicated.”
“So she can just go back there?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What did you say?”
“I said we need to make a safety plan for Lily.”
The frustration rose in me again.
“Everyone keeps saying safety plan like it’s a magic phrase.”
Marisol nodded.
“It isn’t.”
That stopped me.
“It’s a series of imperfect choices that reduce risk while other things happen.”
“What other things?”
“Interviews, records review, possible home assessment, coordination with law enforcement, maybe medical follow-up.”
“Maybe?”
“Not everything happens in every case.”
I hated how ordinary she sounded.
Of course she sounded ordinary.
This was her job.
People’s worst nights happened inside someone else’s work shift.
A man in blue scrubs walked past carrying a microwave dinner in one hand.
He smelled like tomato sauce.
Marisol glanced at her phone.
“Your mother is almost here.”
“How do you know?”
“Front desk called.”
I looked toward Lily’s room.
“I don’t want her going back to my mother’s tonight.”
“Why?”
“Rachel could go there.”
“Then let’s not.”
The simplicity of the answer relieved me.
It also made me feel foolish for needing permission.
Marisol asked whether there was anyone Rachel did not know well.
I thought through friends.
Coworkers.
Parents from school.
Every option came with explanations.
Then I remembered my cousin Beth, who lived twenty-five minutes north of the hospital.
Rachel had met her twice.
Beth had recently separated from her husband and rented a townhouse under her own name.
“She knows my cousin exists.”
“Does she know where she lives?”
“I don’t.”
I texted Beth before I could overthink it.
Are you awake?
The reply came almost immediately.
Unfortunately.
I typed, Can Lily and I stay with you tonight?
Three dots appeared.
Then, Yes.
No question.
No demand for details.
Just yes.
I showed Marisol.
She asked for Beth’s full name, address, and phone number.
I gave them.
Then my phone rang.
Rachel.
I stared at her name.
Marisol said nothing.
The ringing stopped.
A voicemail notification appeared.
Another call started immediately.
I rejected it this time.
Within seconds, a text arrived.
The police are at the Millers.
My stomach dropped.
A second message appeared.
They’re asking about the camera.
Marisol read my face.
“What happened?”
I showed her.
May you like
Then another message came.
I know what you think you’re going to find.
