Chương 8
Maybe she had forgotten.
Maybe she had lied.
Maybe the distinction no longer mattered.
My phone rang from an unknown Fort Worth number.
Ruiz glanced at the screen.
“Answer it.”
I put the phone to my ear.
A woman introduced herself as Detective Nina Patel with Fort Worth Police.
She had reached my grandmother’s assisted living facility.
“She’s awake and willing to speak,” Patel said.
I stood.
“Is she lucid?”
“The nurse says today is a good day.”
“Did you ask about Leon?”
“I asked if she has a son named Leon.”
My throat tightened.
“And?”
“She said yes.”
The hallway seemed to tilt slightly.
“She has two sons?”
“She says she had three children.”
I pressed my fingertips into my temple.
“My mother told us she only had one brother.”
Patel paused.
“Your grandmother says your mother had two brothers.”
“Had?”
“One died as an infant.”
I closed my eyes.
“What about Leon?”
“She says he was the oldest.”
Ruiz held out his hand for the phone, and I put Patel on speaker instead.
He identified himself and asked whether my grandmother had said where Leon had been all these years.
Patel answered, “According to her, he was never gone.”
I looked at Ruiz.
“What does that mean?”
“She says Margaret stayed in contact with him.”
A hot pressure formed behind my ribs.
“How often?”
“She isn’t consistent.”
Patel lowered her voice.
“She says Leon was ‘trouble’ and that Margaret always believed she could fix him.”
The phrasing sounded exactly like my family.
Not stop him.
Not report him.
Fix him.
Ruiz asked about Leon’s work history.
Patel said my grandmother remembered maintenance jobs, apartment complexes, and schools.
“She also mentioned church work.”
“What kind?”
“Repairs.”
Sofia, still standing nearby, covered her mouth.
Ruiz asked Patel to remain with my grandmother while another investigator joined her.
When the call ended, I stared at the carnival photograph again.
Madison’s keys glinted against her wrist.
“I need to talk to her.”
Ruiz shook his head.
“She’s in custody.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t mean you get access.”
“I’m her sister.”
“That matters emotionally.”
He slipped his phone into his pocket.
“It does not give you interview privileges.”
Anger rose instantly.
“She lied to me.”
“Probably.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
“Then stop saying probably.”
Ruiz nodded once.
“Fair.”
Sofia looked between us.
“Can I see Ava?”
Ruiz softened.
“You should call Methodist.”
“They told me she was being transferred.”
I turned toward her.
“To St. Catherine’s?”
She nodded.
“Pediatric ICU.”
The knowledge landed with mixed relief.
Ava would be closer.
So would whatever Noah had to face when he learned she was alive.
Sofia left to meet the transport team.
Before she walked away, she stopped in front of me.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“You had reason.”
“That doesn’t make everything useful.”
I almost told her I understood.
I did not.
Her daughter had been missing for fourteen months.
There were entire species of fear she knew that I had only touched for one night.
“I hope you get to hold her soon,” I said.
Sofia swallowed and nodded.
Then she left.
Ruiz waited until she disappeared around the corner.
“You don’t have to absorb everybody’s anger.”
I looked at him.
“Did Karen tell you to say that?”
“No.”
“Sounds like something from a pamphlet.”
“It probably is.”
I almost smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
He read the message, and the humor vanished.
“What?”
“They found Leon’s truck.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned behind a warehouse off Singleton.”
“Is he there?”
“No.”
“Anything inside?”
“Blood.”
My stomach dropped.
“Whose?”
“We don’t know.”
The next several hours moved slowly enough to be cruel.
Noah slept.
I signed consent forms.
A surgeon explained that his internal bleeding had stabilized and that they were cautiously optimistic about avoiding another operation.
I latched onto the word cautiously as if optimism without it would be dangerous.
At two in the afternoon, I finally called my manager.
I had forgotten the presentation entirely.
He answered on the second ring.
“Emily, thank God.”
For a stupid second, I thought he meant the account.
Then I remembered HR must have told him something.
“I’m in Dallas.”
“I know.”
“My son is in intensive care.”
“Don’t worry about work.”
His voice sounded different from the controlled tone he used in conference rooms.
“We moved the presentation.”
I sat beside the window.
“I might not be back for a while.”
“Then you won’t be back for a while.”
The simplicity of it made me cry harder than almost anything else had that day.
“I thought I’d lose the promotion if I canceled.”
There was silence.
“Emily.”
“I left him because I thought I couldn’t cancel.”
“You could have called me.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean before all this.”
His voice softened.
“You could have called.”
That kindness was unbearable.
“I know.”
He did not tell me it was not my fault.
I was grateful.
There would be time later to sort responsibility from guilt.
For now, he told me the company would place me on emergency family leave and HR would contact me only when necessary.
After we hung up, I sat staring at the hospital parking lot.
I had risked everything because I thought one professional setback would destroy us.
Now the promotion felt like something belonging to another person.
At three-seventeen, Noah woke hungry.
The nurse brought him broth.
He made a face after one sip.
“This tastes like hot water.”
“It is basically hot water.”
“Then why did they put chicken on the menu?”
“Marketing.”
He considered that.
“That’s lying.”
“You’re developing strong opinions.”
“I want fries.”
“You have abdominal injuries.”
“Fries don’t know that.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
The sound startled both of us.
Noah smiled.
Then he touched the bruise near his wrist.
“Is Grandma in jail?”
The question wiped the smile away.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is Aunt Maddie?”
“Yes.”
He stared at the broth.
May you like
“She helped Ava.”
“She did today.”
