Chương 3
The sergeant introduced himself as Martin Reyes and asked whether he could see the phone.
I handed it over.
He did not scroll through anything beyond the two messages.
“Did your brother know you didn’t want Patricia to have your itinerary?”
“Yes.”
“Was that explicit?”
“Yes.”
Daniel answered before I could.
“We told him not to tell her anything.”
I glanced at him.
“We didn’t say anything.”
“We did.”
“When?”
“Sunday.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“When he called about your dad’s storage unit.”
I remembered the call then.
Caleb had been annoyed because Patricia was pressuring him to let her into the rented storage space where Dad’s tools, tax files, old fishing gear, and several boxes from our childhood had been sitting since the house sold.
Daniel had been feeding Lily mashed banana.
I had told Caleb we would be away for a few days and that if Patricia asked, he should say he did not know where we were.
I had even made a joke about witness protection.
Caleb had laughed.
The memory made me nauseous.
Reyes returned my phone.
“Keep everything.”
“What happens to Patricia?”
Daniel asked.
“She’ll be transported for booking once airport security finishes what they need from her.”
“For what?”
“There are several possible charges.”
He said it carefully, without pretending he could promise an outcome.
“The breach itself is serious.”
“And trying to take Lily?”
“I saw enough to document what happened, and there are multiple witnesses.”
He paused.
“You should also consider seeking a protective order.”
I almost said we already should have.
Instead I looked at Patricia.
She had turned her face away from me.
An officer helped her stand.
For the first time since she crossed the checkpoint, she looked tired.
Not remorseful.
Just depleted.
“Can she come near us again tonight?”
I asked.
“Not while she’s in custody.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Reyes understood.
“After release depends on what happens with the case and what conditions are imposed.”
The lack of certainty scared me more than a dramatic answer would have.
Daniel blew out a breath.
“So we could go home tonight and she could show up tomorrow.”
“Potentially.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Reyes did not disagree.
Another officer approached and spoke quietly to him.
I caught only fragments.
Video confirmed.
Entered through employee lane.
Followed catering badge.
No physical assistance.
Reyes asked one question, received an answer, then turned back to us.
“It appears she exploited a moment when an employee-access barrier opened.”
“So nobody helped her?”
“Not intentionally, based on what we know right now.”
That should have relieved me.
Instead I thought about Patricia standing outside security and watching for an opening.
Waiting.
Planning.
This had not been some impulsive decision after seeing us by accident.
She had come to the airport knowing our flight.
She had found the correct terminal.
She had watched the checkpoint until she saw a way through.
Daniel must have been thinking the same thing.
His mouth had gone flat.
“She stalked us.”
Reyes avoided the legal label.
“She made deliberate choices.”
The paramedic recommended that Lily be evaluated by a pediatrician if she developed swelling, unusual irritability, vomiting, difficulty moving an arm, or anything that worried us.
I nodded too many times.
I knew I was doing it and could not stop.
“Would you take her in now?”
I asked.
“If she were mine?”
The paramedic hesitated.
“I’d probably get her checked, mostly because of the pulling force and because babies can’t tell us what hurts.”
That decided it.
“We’re going.”
Daniel nodded immediately.
Reyes asked us to complete our statements first.
We were taken into a small airport office away from the gate.
There were four gray chairs, a desk scarred around the edges, a printer that sounded as if it resented its job, and a framed photograph of the Boston skyline.
Someone brought us bottled water.
Daniel drank his too quickly and crushed the empty bottle in one hand.
I sat with Lily on my lap while an officer took my statement.
The questions forced the morning into order.
Where exactly had I been standing?
Which hand held Lily?
Where did Patricia grab first?
What words did she use?
Had she made physical contact with the baby?
Had I fallen?
Had Daniel struck Patricia?
At that question, Daniel looked offended.
“I pushed between them.”
The officer looked at him.
“I’m asking her.”
Daniel sat back.
“Sorry.”
I answered no.
He had not struck Patricia.
He had blocked her, grabbed her forearm once, and then moved away when police arrived.
Daniel stared at the floor during that part.
When my statement reached Patricia’s earlier behavior, things became less clean.
There were messages I had deleted because I found them irritating.
Calls I had ignored.
A birthday package for Lily that I had returned unopened.
A voicemail in which Patricia cried for seven minutes without threatening anybody directly.
Three visits to our house, only one of which had ended with us asking her to leave.
An afternoon when she sat in her car across the street for nearly an hour.
I had not called the police.
I had not documented everything.
I had not wanted to become the kind of person who kept a file on family.
Now an officer was asking for dates, and I could only say things like late May or around Father’s Day.
“Do you have a record of the incident where she waited outside your house?”
“No.”
“Any security footage?”
“Our doorbell camera overwrites after thirty days.”
“Did you save it?”
“No.”
My voice sounded smaller each time.
The officer did not criticize me.
That somehow made it worse.
Daniel’s knee bounced beside mine.
When the officer stepped out, he said, “Stop.”
I turned toward him.
“Stop what?”
“Blaming yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re doing the thing with your mouth.”
“What thing?”
He touched his own lower lip.
“You bite the inside when you’re upset with yourself.”
May you like
I almost snapped at him.
Instead I looked down at Lily.
