Chương 7
"What does that mean?"
Michael looked exhausted.
"It means I never told you the whole story."
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"Apparently, that is becoming a theme."
He accepted the insult.
Maybe because he deserved it.
"Daniel was married twice."
"Why would his second wife leave a note in Emma's locker?"
"I don't know."
I closed my eyes.
"Michael."
"I don't know if it was his second wife."
"But you just said her name."
"Because she is the only person I can think of who would know about Emma."
I looked at him.
"How would she know?"
Michael didn't answer immediately.
That was enough.
"How?"
He looked down.
"Because she worked at St. Mary's."
The words hit harder than I expected.
"What?"
"She was a nurse."
I took a step back.
"No."
"Sarah."
"No."
I shook my head.
"That is impossible."
Michael looked at me.
"Why?"
Because I knew every nurse in my department.
Because I knew faces.
Names.
Schedules.
Because I had spent years believing my workplace was the one place where I understood the rules.
"What's her last name now?"
He looked at me.
"Pierce."
My stomach dropped.
"Daniel's wife kept his last name?"
"Yes."
I grabbed my phone.
I opened the employee directory.
My hands felt numb.
The search bar appeared.
I typed Laura Pierce.
Nothing.
Then I searched Laura Bennett.
Nothing.
Michael watched me.
"She doesn't work there anymore."
"When did she leave?"
"Two years ago."
"Why?"
He looked away.
"Because of what happened with Daniel."
I stared at him.
"Tell me everything."
This time he did not hesitate.
Maybe because there was nothing left to protect.
"After Daniel's first wife died, he blamed the company."
Michael's voice was low.
"Then he blamed everyone who helped the company survive."
"Did he blame you?"
"Yes."
"And Laura?"
"She stayed with him for a while."
"For a while?"
"Then she found out things weren't exactly how Daniel told them."
"What things?"
Michael looked at the floor.
"That he had done things too."
The answer surprised me.
"What kind of things?"
"Manipulation."
"Threats."
"Using people's fear against them."
I thought about the note.
Your father wasn't the only person who lied to you.
A new possibility opened.
Maybe the person who wrote it wasn't trying to hurt Emma.
Maybe they were trying to tell her something.
That thought terrified me more.
Because it meant my daughter had become part of a war between adults.
My phone rang.
Detective Reynolds.
I answered immediately.
"Sarah."
His voice sounded different.
More serious.
"We identified the person from the footage."
I looked at Michael.
"Who was it?"
"Laura Pierce."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"Are you sure?"
"We confirmed her identity through school visitor records."
"She was at the school?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Two days before Emma collapsed."
I looked toward the stairs.
The same week.
The same week my daughter started getting worse.
"Why was she there?"
"We're still investigating."
I swallowed.
"Did she see Emma?"
Another pause.
"Yes."
My heart sank.
"How?"
"She signed in as a volunteer."
The word sounded impossible.
Volunteer.
Someone could walk into a school with a friendly smile and a name badge and still carry secrets.
"What did she do there?"
"According to the school, she helped organize reading materials."
I looked at Michael.
His face had gone pale.
"Sarah."
"I'm here."
"I need you to listen carefully."
His tone made me sit down.
"Laura Pierce did not only work at St. Mary's."
"What else?"
"She worked in pediatrics."
I stopped breathing.
"She knew Emma."
"Yes."
"No."
The word came out before I could stop it.
"No, she didn't."
"Sarah."
"I would have known."
"Would you?"
The question hurt because I didn't know.
Hospitals were full of people crossing paths.
Thousands of patients.
Hundreds of employees.
Someone could know your name without you knowing theirs.
Someone could watch your life from a distance.
"Detective."
"Yes."
"Did Laura have access to Emma's medical records?"
He didn't answer.
That was the answer.
I stood up.
"She did."
"We are looking into that."
"Looking into it?"
My voice rose.
"Someone accessed my daughter's information."
"We need confirmation before making assumptions."
I almost laughed.
Everyone wanted confirmation.
Everyone wanted proof.
Meanwhile, my daughter had been the proof.
The proof that everyone ignored.
After the call ended, I walked upstairs.
Emma was awake.
She was sitting on her bed holding one of her stuffed animals.
She looked at me.
"Mom?"
I sat beside her.
"Hey."
"Are you mad?"
The question surprised me.
"Why would I be mad?"
She looked at her hands.
"Because I knew something was wrong."
I froze.
"What do you mean?"
She picked at the blanket.
"With Daddy."
I waited.
"He told me not to tell you because you were already stressed."
I swallowed.
"What else did he say?"
"He said you would think he was a bad dad."
The words were almost a whisper.
I looked at my daughter.
"Emma, listen to me."
She looked up.
"You are never responsible for protecting adults from consequences."
Her eyes filled.
"I didn't want him to leave."
That was the part nobody understood about children.
They could be hurt and still love the person who hurt them.
They could be afraid and still hope things went back to normal.
"I know."
I pulled her close.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered something into my shoulder.
"Mom."
"Yeah?"
"That lady from school wasn't the first person."
I pulled back.
"What lady?"
"The one who gave me the note."
My heart stopped.
"Emma."
She looked scared.
"Please don't be mad."
"I'm not mad."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
She took a breath.
"Someone else came before."
"When?"
"A few weeks ago."
"Who?"
She looked toward the window.
"I don't know her name."
My fingers went cold.
"What did she look like?"
Emma thought for a moment.
"She had a green coat."
"Anything else?"
"She smelled like the hospital."
May you like
The room became silent.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
