Chương 4
Elaine said, “We will cooperate with lawful requests.”
The detective gave her a look that suggested he heard that sentence often.
By eleven-thirty, Maya’s wrist had darkened from red to purple near the thumb. A hotel doctor examined it and said nothing appeared broken. She declined an ambulance, signed a form, and waited another forty minutes for police to release her phone.
When it arrived, it was sealed in a clear evidence sleeve.
Her mother had called six times.
Maya stepped into the corridor and dialed back.
Lorraine Reed answered before the first full ring. “Where are you?”
“At work.”
“You were supposed to call.”
“I know.”
“A woman from church sent me a video.”
Maya closed her eyes.
“What video?”
“You know what video.”
The carpet beneath her heels had a pattern of gold leaves. She focused on one leaf where the thread had pulled loose.
“Mom, I didn’t steal anything.”
“I know that.”
“You didn’t even see the whole—”
“I said I know.”
Lorraine’s voice had the hard edge it took on when fear tried to disguise itself as impatience.
“The video stops before they show the camera,” she said. “It’s just that woman holding you and telling everybody you stole something. People are sharing it.”
Maya looked toward the salon. Through a gap in the doors she could see Daniel standing beside Elaine, speaking quietly.
“How many people?”
“I don’t know. Enough.”
“Don’t read the comments.”
“I’m not eighty.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know exactly what you meant. Are you coming home?”
“Soon.”
“You always say soon when you don’t know.”
Maya pressed two fingers to her forehead. “Maybe an hour.”
“I made chicken.”
“At midnight?”
“I made it at seven. It remains chicken.”
Despite herself, Maya laughed once. It hurt her throat.
Lorraine’s voice softened. “Baby, are you all right?”
“No.”
“All right. Then come home not all right. We’ll figure out the rest when you get here.”
The hotel provided a car. Maya sat in the back with her clutch, now empty except for her keys, receipt, and lip balm. The police had returned it in a larger evidence bag, and she kept the bag on the seat beside her as if it belonged to someone else.
Outside, downtown lights slid across the window. People waited for rides, argued beneath restaurant awnings, and carried shopping bags toward parking garages. No one knew that Maya Reed had spent the evening beneath chandeliers while a room decided what kind of person she was.
Her phone continued to vibrate.
She ignored it until a message from her younger brother appeared.
CALL ME BEFORE I FIGHT THE INTERNET.
She typed, Don’t fight anyone.
Too late. I have typed three paragraphs.
Delete them.
One paragraph?
Andre.
Fine. Mom says bring ice cream.
Maya looked at the evidence bag.
No ice cream, she wrote.
The driver glanced at her through the mirror. “Long night?”
She considered giving him the safe answer.
“Yes.”
He nodded as if that was enough.
Lorraine lived in the same two-bedroom apartment where Maya and Andre had grown up, on a street of brick buildings, narrow balconies, and parking rules nobody fully understood. She was waiting at the kitchen table in her robe when Maya entered. The chicken sat untouched beneath foil.
Andre rose from the couch. He was twenty-one, six feet tall, and incapable of hiding anger anywhere on his body.
“Let me see your wrist.”
“I’m fine.”
“Let me see.”
She held it out.
His face changed. “She did that?”
Lorraine came closer but did not touch the bruise. “Did the police take pictures?”
“Yes.”
“Did the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
Maya had not.
Lorraine took out her phone and photographed the wrist from several angles.
Andre paced between the refrigerator and the sink. “We need a lawyer.”
“We don’t have a lawyer.”
“We can get one.”
“With what?”
“I have money.”
“You have forty-three dollars.”
“I have sixty-eight.”
Lorraine returned to the table. “Sit down before you knock something over.”
Maya sat. The apartment smelled of onions, floor cleaner, and the cinnamon candle Lorraine lit even in July. A local news broadcast played silently on the television. Her own face appeared in a small video window behind the anchor.
Andre grabbed the remote and turned off the screen.
“That was helpful,” Maya said.
“I’m going to throw the whole television away.”
“It’s Mom’s.”
“I paid for half.”
“You paid for the streaming stick.”
Lorraine put chicken on a plate and set it in front of Maya. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Then move the food around until I feel useful.”
Maya picked up the fork.
The clip on television had been filmed from behind Vivian. It showed her gripping Maya’s wrist and pointing toward the clutch. Maya’s face was clear. The accusation was clear. The footage stopped before Daniel ordered the security video.
A second clip existed, recorded from farther away, but the monitor was difficult to see. In it, Daniel’s voice saying “You planted it” could be heard over the crowd. By midnight, people were arguing online about whether the video proved anything.
Some thought the event had been staged.
Some said Maya had probably stolen the brooch first and Vivian had returned it to trap her.
Some asked why an innocent employee would carry a luxury clutch.
One account found Maya’s professional profile and posted the name of the hotel where she worked.
Another posted an old photograph of her at Andre’s high school graduation and claimed Daniel Cross was standing behind her. The man in the photograph was the school principal.
“People are stupid,” Andre said, leaning over her phone.
“Move.”
“They’re aggressively stupid.”
“Move, Andre.”
He sat across from her. “You’re not going back there.”
“I have a shift at eleven.”
“You got assaulted.”
“I also have rent.”
“The hotel should pay you.”
“The hotel pays me when I work.”
May you like
Lorraine folded the foil over the remaining chicken. “They may tell you not to come in.”
Maya knew they would. She also knew the possibility hurt more than it should have. The Halcyon had been the first place where she had been promoted because she was good at something no one in her family considered a real career until it began paying medical bills. She knew which donors needed decaf after eight, which elevators ran slow in winter, and how to replace an entire seating chart without letting the bride know the groom’s parents had started another fight.
