Chương 2
He had remembered the sentence and forgotten the irony.
Dr. Alan Chen arrived through the garage entrance three minutes after the SUV. He was a discreet pediatrician with silver hair and the habit of cleaning his glasses when displeased.
He looked at Emma on the sofa in the upstairs sitting room and stopped cleaning.
“How long has she been like this?”
“I met her twenty minutes ago.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“It’s the only answer I have.”
Dr. Chen set down his case. “Everyone out except one adult.”
“I’m staying,” Lily said.
“You’re not an adult.”
“She might be my sister.”
Marcus closed the door before Daniel or the two guards in the hall could hear more.
Dr. Chen glanced between the girls. “Marcus.”
“Examine her.”
“Lily should go downstairs.”
“No.”
The word came from Emma.
Her eyes were open now. They followed Lily with a desperate concentration.
Lily sat in a chair near the sofa. “I won’t leave.”
Dr. Chen gave Marcus a look he usually reserved for parents who lied about unsecured firearms. Then he examined Emma while Marcus stood near the window and Lily held the rabbit.
Dehydration. Malnutrition. Old bruises at the wrist. A healing cut near one knee. No immediate sign of fracture or internal injury. Her temperature was slightly elevated, but Dr. Chen believed it came from exhaustion.
“She needs fluids, blood work, and proper imaging,” he said. “Not just me with a bag in your house.”
“She won’t go with strangers.”
“I’m not asking her permission.”
Emma shrank into the cushions.
Marcus saw it happen. “She goes with me.”
“To the hospital?”
“Where else?”
Dr. Chen turned toward the door. “I’ll call ahead.”
“No name in the system yet.”
The doctor’s hand remained on the knob. “You brought an unidentified, medically neglected child into a guarded house. If you are thinking about keeping this invisible, stop.”
“I’m thinking about keeping her alive.”
“Then do it properly.”
Marcus’s first impulse was to remind him who paid for discretion. He let the impulse pass.
“Call ahead.”
After the doctor left, Lily placed the rabbit beside Emma. The torn belly gaped. A little dark stuffing clung to the stitches.
“I didn’t hurt him,” Lily said.
Emma pulled it close. “He’s not a him.”
“Oh.”
“She never said what it was.”
“Who?”
“My mother.”
Lily sat on the edge of the chair. “Our mother.”
Emma stared at her.
Lily’s chin trembled once. She made it stop by biting the inside of her cheek.
Marcus turned away from both of them and removed the letter from his jacket.
The paper had softened along its folds. FOR MARCUS was written across the front in Grace’s slanted hand.
He knew the way she formed the R. He knew the pressure mark her pen left at the bottom of an M. He had once watched her write grocery lists on the backs of envelopes and correct his spelling with unnecessary satisfaction.
His thumb slipped beneath the fold.
“Don’t,” Emma said.
Marcus looked at her.
“She said you had to read it when nobody could take me away.”
“No one is taking you away.”
“You don’t know that.”
Again, she was right.
He returned the letter to his pocket.
The hospital placed Emma in a private pediatric room under the name Jane Blackwell because Marcus refused to leave the surname blank. A nurse objected. A hospital administrator arrived. Marcus’s attorney, Claire Donnelly, joined them before the argument reached the nurses’ station.
Claire wore a navy suit, flat shoes, and an expression that suggested everyone present had already made her evening worse.
“You cannot assign a child a legal name because it makes you feel better,” she told Marcus.
“It’s printed on her hospital bracelet.”
“A bracelet from seven years ago is not a custody order.”
“It is evidence.”
“It is plastic.”
Emma listened from the bed while a nurse taped an IV line to her arm. Lily sat near the window, opening and closing the blinds by one inch at a time.
Marcus kept his voice level. “Arrange a DNA test.”
“Already arranged.”
“A quiet one.”
“There is no quiet version anymore.”
Claire held up her phone. A photograph from Lincoln Park filled the screen. Marcus carried Emma toward the SUV. Lily stood behind him, looking back at the ground. The image had been posted by someone who described Marcus as removing a homeless child after a disturbance.
“The hospital has a mandatory reporting obligation,” Claire said. “A child protection investigator will be here before midnight. Possibly police.”
Daniel stood outside the room, speaking to security.
Marcus watched Emma’s face.
She had gone very still.
Claire lowered her voice. “You need to decide whether you are a father seeking lawful custody or a man who expects systems to step aside because they usually do.”
“I am her father.”
“You believe that.”
“I know it.”
“Then act like the truth can survive procedure.”
He disliked Claire most when she sounded like Grace.
The investigator arrived at eleven twenty. Her name was Maria Ortega. She was in her early fifties, wore a raincoat despite the dry night, and carried a paper cup that smelled of burned coffee.
She asked Marcus to leave the room.
“No.”
She studied him without visible alarm. “Then I can ask for law enforcement assistance, and your daughter can watch strangers remove you.”
Lily’s hand found Marcus’s sleeve.
He left.
For forty-three minutes, he sat in a family waiting area beneath a television playing a muted cooking show. Daniel stood near the vending machines. Claire answered emails. A janitor polished the same section of floor twice, glancing at Marcus only when he thought Marcus would not notice.
“What happened in the park?” Marcus asked.
Daniel remained facing the hallway. “The child came through the east path. She knew your name. One of the junior men moved to block her. She ducked under his arm.”
“You grabbed the rabbit.”
“I saw bulk beneath the dress.”
May you like
“She’s seven.”
“I didn’t know what was inside it.”
