Chương 5
Then at Hazel.
Then at the FAMILY folder on my phone.
For years, every crisis had arrived already interpreted for me by Martha.
This was the first time I had ever thought to collect the pieces before deciding what I owed anyone.
I saved the photograph without replying to the unknown number.
Then I forwarded it to Deputy Cole with a short message explaining that the woman pictured was Penny and that Lily might be traveling with her.
He called almost immediately.
"Do you know who sent this?"
"No."
"Can you ask?"
"I can."
"Don't accuse them of anything."
"I wasn't planning to."
There was a faint clicking on his end, probably a keyboard.
"Also, don't assume the location tag proves she's physically there right now."
That irritated me because I wanted one clean fact.
"I know."
"No offense."
"None taken."
Some was taken.
I blamed exhaustion.
He asked whether Penny had permission from Lily's father to travel out of state.
I had no idea.
Lily's father, Travis, existed in our family mostly as a complaint.
Depending on which year Martha told the story, he was irresponsible, cruel, unemployed, controlling, absent, or all five.
I had met him three times.
The last time had been at Lily's fifth birthday party, when he spent twenty minutes assembling a plastic dollhouse while Penny criticized the instructions over his shoulder.
After that, his name appeared only when Penny needed money for something he supposedly refused to pay.
"I can try to find his number."
"Don't investigate this yourself."
The words were mild, but the message was clear.
"I understand."
I did not entirely understand.
For years, nobody had minded when I investigated overdue bills, insurance claims, school registrations, or emergency repairs.
Apparently investigation became dangerous only when I stopped solving things with a transfer.
After we hung up, I texted the unknown number.
"Who is this?"
The response came two minutes later.
"Someone Penny still owes."
I stared at it.
That sounded ominous enough to put my body on alert again.
I typed, "Are you threatening her?"
The typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, then returned.
"No."
A second message followed.
"I'm her former friend, Kayla."
The name meant something.
I searched my memory until an image surfaced of a woman with red hair standing beside Penny in a Christmas photograph two years earlier.
They had worn matching pajamas.
Martha had called them inseparable.
Apparently inseparable had an expiration date.
"Why send me the picture?"
"Because she told everybody you were paying."
My face got hot.
"Paying for what?"
This time Kayla sent a screenshot.
It was a group text.
Penny's name appeared above a message sent five days earlier.
"My sister's covering the rest so everybody stop freaking out."
Below it, someone had replied, "The 10k?"
Penny had answered with a thumbs-up.
Five days earlier.
Before Hazel was born.
Before Martha claimed dangerous men were outside the apartment.
I sat completely still.
Rosa was packing the hospital toiletries into one of her grocery bags.
"What?"
I handed her the phone.
She read the messages twice.
Then she sat beside me without saying anything.
The betrayal was not that Penny had lied.
Penny lied whenever the truth became inconvenient.
The betrayal was the planning.
The emergency had existed before the emergency.
My labor had simply become the best moment to apply pressure.
I pictured Martha looking at a calendar, knowing my due date, knowing Daniel was gone, knowing I would be frightened and tired.
I hated the image because I could not prove it.
I hated it more because it felt possible.
Kayla sent another message.
"They booked two cabanas and bottle service for three days."
Then another.
"Your sister put it on cards."
I wrote, "Where is Lily?"
"No clue."
"Was she supposed to be on this trip?"
"Kids weren't invited."
My heart began pounding.
I called Penny.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
I called Martha.
She answered on the first ring.
"What now?"
"Where is Lily?"
"I told you Penny has her."
"Is Penny in Miami?"
Silence.
I could hear something metallic clinking in the background.
Martha was probably in her kitchen.
I knew that sound.
She stirred tea with the spoon still inside the mug even after the sugar dissolved.
"Who told you that?"
"Is she in Miami?"
"People are feeding you nonsense."
"I have a photograph."
"Photographs don't mean anything anymore."
It was such a modern defense that I almost admired it.
"Do you know where Lily is?"
"She's with her mother."
"Where?"
"I don't have to report every movement of this family to you."
"No, but if an eight-year-old is supposedly in danger, somebody should know where she is."
"Stop acting hysterical."
I looked at Hazel.
She was asleep against my chest.
The word hysterical did not hurt the way Martha intended.
It sounded almost lazy.
"Put Noah on the phone."
"What?"
"You said Noah is with you."
"He is."
"Let me talk to him."
"He's watching television."
"So?"
"Don't drag him into this."
The irony was breathtaking.
"Mom, put Noah on."
A long pause followed.
Then I heard my nephew say something far away.
Martha answered him sharply.
At least he was there.
Some of the pressure in my ribs eased.
"See?"
"I didn't hear enough to know anything."
"Oh, for God's sake."
Then Noah's voice came closer.
"Aunt Maya?"
Martha had apparently put me on speaker.
"Hey, buddy."
"Did the baby come out?"
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The first question any member of my family had asked.
"Yeah."
"Is she weird-looking?"
A laugh escaped me.
"Extremely."
Rosa smiled.
"Can I see her?"
"Soon."
"Grandma says she's too little."
"She is pretty little."
"What's her name again?"
"Hazel."
"Oh."
He considered this.
"Like a witch."
"Thank you, Noah."
"Not a bad witch."
Martha snatched the conversation back.
"Enough."
"Wait."
I leaned forward.
"Noah, where's Lily?"
Silence.
Then Martha's voice became hard.
"Don't."
Noah answered anyway.
"She went with Mom."
"Where?"
May you like
"I don't know."
"Did they get on an airplane?"
