Chương 3
Amanda looked around.
“You think one of the kids took this?”
“No.”
Lena watched her carefully.
“I think an adult did.”
Nobody spoke.
The silence lasted long enough for Chloe to notice.
“What happened?”
Amanda immediately turned.
“Go sit in the car.”
“But—”
“Now, Chloe.”
The girl rolled her eyes but walked away.
Lena noticed something then.
Not guilt exactly.
Fear.
Amanda was afraid of something.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Lena asked.
Amanda shook her head.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You looked scared when you saw that picture.”
“I’m scared because someone took a photo of children without anyone knowing.”
“That’s not all.”
Mark stepped between them slightly.
“Lena.”
His tone was a warning.
Not angry.
Careful.
That bothered her more.
“What?”
“You’re upset.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re looking for someone to blame.”
Lena looked at him.
“Your daughter was targeted in that picture too.”
The sentence surprised him.
“What?”
“The picture makes Mia look like the problem.”
Mark looked back at the phone.
For the first time, he really looked at it.
Not as a father defending his daughter.
As a person seeing what had actually been captured.
His face changed.
Only briefly.
But it changed.
“I didn’t realize.”
“No.”
Lena put the phone down.
“That’s the problem.”
Amanda folded her arms.
“You’re assuming someone is trying to hurt her.”
“Someone sent me a photo designed to make a nine-year-old look dangerous.”
Amanda looked away.
The driveway was quiet now.
Most of the guests had left.
A few balloons moved against the fence as the wind picked up.
Then Mark said something that made Lena stop.
“There was a woman by the fence.”
Amanda turned toward him.
“What woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never mentioned that.”
“Because I didn’t think it mattered.”
Lena felt a cold feeling settle in her stomach.
“When did you see her?”
Mark rubbed his forehead.
“Before the cake.”
“Why do you remember her?”
He hesitated.
“She was asking questions.”
“About what?”
Mark looked uncomfortable.
“About Mia.”
The answer changed the air between them.
Lena stepped closer.
“What kind of questions?”
Mark looked toward the house.
“She asked how long Mia had been living with you.”
Lena’s jaw tightened.
“Did she tell you who she was?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her anything?”
“No.”
Amanda looked at him.
“Mark.”
“I said no.”
His voice sharpened.
“I told her I didn’t know her and she should talk to you if she had questions.”
Lena looked at the street.
A dozen thoughts moved at once.
The photo.
The message.
The questions.
The timing.
Someone had come to the party already knowing Mia mattered.
“Did you get a good look at her?” Lena asked.
Mark shook his head.
“Not really.”
“Anything?”
He looked frustrated with himself.
“Brown hair.”
“That describes half the neighborhood.”
“I know.”
He exhaled.
“She had a scar near her eyebrow.”
Lena stared at him.
A strange feeling passed through her.
Not recognition.
Something close to it.
A memory trying to reach the surface.
Then Amanda interrupted.
“Lena, whatever is happening, don’t involve the police because someone sent a mean message.”
Lena looked at her.
“I didn’t say I was calling anyone.”
“Your face says you’re thinking about it.”
“My face says I’m trying to protect a child.”
Amanda looked down.
For a moment, she seemed less like the mother who had defended Chloe and more like someone exhausted by a problem she did not understand.
“I have to tell you something.”
Mark looked at her.
“What?”
Amanda ignored him.
“Last week, someone came by my office.”
Lena waited.
“A woman asking about the Whitmore family.”
“Why?”
“She said she was looking for information.”
“About what?”
Amanda swallowed.
“She mentioned your niece.”
The word niece sounded strangely deliberate.
Not daughter.
Not Mia.
Niece.
As if the person asking had already decided how Mia belonged in the world.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mark asked.
Amanda’s eyes moved toward him.
“Because I didn’t know if it meant anything.”
“And now?”
She looked at the phone in Lena’s hand.
“Now I’m not sure.”
Lena felt anger rise, but underneath it was something heavier.
Fear.
Not for herself.
For the little girl sitting inside a laundry room believing people might only love her out of obligation.
She walked back toward the house.
The party decorations were still hanging everywhere.
Pink ribbons.
Half-eaten cake.
Plastic cups left on tables.
A celebration that had changed without moving.
When she opened the sliding door, Mia was no longer on the laundry room floor.
“Mia?”
No answer.
Lena checked the living room.
Empty.
The hallway.
Empty.
Her heart started beating faster.
“Mia?”
She found her upstairs in the guest room, sitting beside a small cardboard box.
The box was filled with things from before.
Old drawings.
A hospital bracelet.
A photograph of Mia with her mother.
Lena stopped in the doorway.
“Mia.”
The girl wiped her face quickly.
“I wasn’t looking for anything.”
Lena walked in slowly.
“What are you doing?”
Mia touched the photograph.
“I wanted to remember if I was someone people wanted before.”
Lena sat beside her.
The sentence hurt in a way she could not fix.
Because there were wounds that came from a single cruel sentence and others that came from hearing the same fear confirmed again and again.
“I need you to tell me something,” Lena said.
Mia looked up.
“Did Chloe say anything else today?”
The girl hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“She said my mom left because taking care of me was too hard.”
Lena felt the room go quiet.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
Mia looked down.
“Because I thought maybe if I didn’t argue, she would stop.”
Lena closed her eyes for a moment.
That was the part that scared her most.
Not the picture.
Not the message.
Not even the woman asking questions.
It was the fact that Mia had started learning how to disappear.
May you like
Lena took the photograph from her hand and placed it back in the box.
“We’re going to find out who sent that message.”
