Chương 7
Leah made a broken sound.
“I’m so angry that I’m happy.”
He understood that better than anything else she could have said.
“I know.”
“Is Lily okay?”
“She saw her.”
“Oh, God.”
“She asked if she was Mommy.”
“What did you say?”
“That I didn’t know everything.”
“That’s probably the only sane sentence anybody has said tonight.”
Daniel looked at Rachel, who was speaking quietly with another attendant at the end of the carriage.
“Leah.”
“Yeah?”
“Did Claire ever tell you she was having trouble at work?”
“No.”
“Did she ask whether anyone followed Lily?”
A pause.
“No.”
Daniel picked at the label on the water bottle.
“I think I missed things.”
“Don’t.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t make her stay dead.”
He said nothing.
Leah continued.
“Whatever she was scared of, whatever she did, she looked at four years and kept choosing another day.”
Daniel knew his sister was right.
He also knew the sentence was too simple.
People rarely chose four years.
They chose Tuesday.
Then Wednesday.
Then one more weekend.
Then after Christmas.
Then after a birthday.
Then after they had enough money.
Then after they were less ashamed.
A life could disappear by inches.
That did not make Claire’s absence smaller.
It made it more frightening.
Lily woke near midnight.
She wanted hot chocolate.
Rachel found some even though the dining car had closed.
Lily sat beside Daniel in her cream cardigan, both hands wrapped around the cup while Benny occupied the seat next to her like a tired passenger.
“Where did the lady go?”
“She got off the train.”
“Why?”
“To talk to some police officers.”
“Because she hit you?”
“Partly.”
Lily blew on the chocolate.
“Is she bad?”
Daniel looked at his daughter.
Children asked questions adults spent entire lives avoiding.
“I don’t know if people are only one thing.”
Lily frowned.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
She sipped her drink.
After a minute she said, “She looked like Mommy.”
“Yes.”
“Did she sound like her?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Do you think she is her?”
He looked at Benny.
One glass eye stared upward.
“I think she might be.”
Lily stopped drinking.
Her face did not transform with joy.
It became worried.
“But Mommy’s dead.”
“I know.”
“If she’s not dead, then you lied.”
The words hit him harder than Claire’s hand.
Daniel leaned closer.
“I told you what I believed was true.”
Lily considered this.
“Did Grandma believe it?”
“Yes.”
“Aunt Leah?”
“Yes.”
“Everybody?”
“Yes.”
Lily looked out the window.
Snow reflected in the glass.
“That’s weird.”
Daniel laughed.
He could not help it.
Lily looked offended.
“I’m not joking.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Because weird is a very good word for it.”
She drank more chocolate.
After a while she leaned against him.
Daniel waited for another question.
It came when her eyes were almost closed.
“If she’s Mommy, does she live with us?”
Daniel stared forward.
“No.”
Lily did not ask why.
She was asleep before the train crossed the next county line.
At 2:08 a.m., Daniel received a call from a number he did not recognize.
A deputy identified himself and asked whether Daniel could confirm Claire’s date of birth, former address, maiden name, and several other details.
Daniel answered.
Then the deputy said something that made him grip the edge of the seat.
“We located the old fatality record.”
Daniel waited.
“There are some inconsistencies.”
“What kind?”
“I’m not going to speculate tonight.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because Ms. Reed—Claire—provided information about the crash that appears consistent with nonpublic portions of the report.”
Daniel looked at Lily.
“Does that mean you believe her?”
“It means we’re taking her claim seriously.”
“Is she under arrest?”
“She’s being held while we sort out identity and document issues. I can’t tell you more than that.”
“What about Jenna Morales?”
The deputy paused.
“Who gave you that name?”
“Claire.”
“We’re looking into it.”
“Her mother lives in Phoenix.”
Another pause.
“We know.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Of course they had found her faster than he expected.
Records.
Databases.
Missing-person reports.
The modern world stored pieces of everyone.
Sometimes it failed to connect them.
The deputy asked Daniel not to contact Jenna’s family.
Daniel agreed.
He slept for eleven minutes.
He knew because his watch told him.
At dawn, the train moved through white fields beneath a colorless sky.
Lily woke hungry and cheerful for approximately thirty seconds before remembering the night.
Rachel brought scrambled eggs and toast.
Lily stared at her eggs.
“Is Claire my mom?”
Rachel froze.
Daniel said, “Lily.”
“What?”
Rachel set down the plate.
“I think your dad is the person who should answer that.”
Lily pointed her fork at her.
“That means yes.”
Rachel looked at Daniel.
“I have a niece.”
“I can tell.”
Rachel smiled despite herself.
Lily ate half a piece of toast.
Then she asked Rachel if train attendants slept on trains.
Rachel explained crew compartments.
For five minutes, life returned to a manageable size.
Beds.
Work shifts.
Bad coffee.
Rachel complained that the crew shower had two settings: glacier and volcano.
Lily laughed.
Daniel listened.
The ordinary conversation hurt almost as much as everything else.
By the time they arrived in Chicago, three calls were waiting.
One from the county sheriff.
One from an investigator with the state bureau.
One from Daniel’s insurance company.
He stared at the third voicemail.
He had received a life insurance payment after Claire’s death.
He had never thought of it as money connected to her body. It had become the mortgage, childcare, a college account for Lily, six months when Daniel worked fewer hours because he could not function.
Now the words claim review appeared in the voicemail.
The past had begun sending invoices.
Leah met them at the station.
She ran toward Lily first.
Daniel was grateful.
Lily disappeared into her aunt’s coat.
Leah hugged her too tightly.
“Aunt Leah, I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry.”
“You always do that.”
“I know.”
May you like
“Everybody keeps saying that.”
Leah looked at Daniel.
