Derek called shortly before noon.
His name appeared on my screen while Lily was resting with the rabbit tucked under her arm.
I watched the phone vibrate against the bedside table.
The old instinct rose in me immediately.
Answer.
Find out what he wants.
Keep the conversation calm.
Make sure he isn't angry.
For years, I had treated his anger like weather that might ruin the day if I did not prepare for it.
I had learned to listen for changes in his breathing.
I had learned to notice when his jokes became sharp and when a simple question made him defensive.
I had called those habits marriage.
Now I wondered how much of them had been survival.
The phone stopped vibrating.
A moment later, a message appeared.
We need to talk.
I looked at the words for several seconds.
Then I typed a reply.
We can talk when you're ready to answer questions about Lily and the money.
I did not add an apology.
I did not explain why I had mentioned the money.
I did not soften the message with a smile or a promise that everything could be worked out.
Derek called again.
This time, I answered.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
His voice was louder than it needed to be.
“I'm at the hospital with Lily.”
“I know that. I mean, what are you doing with the police?”
“I'm cooperating with them.”
“You're making this into something it isn't.”
I looked through the glass panel in the door.
A nurse was passing the room with a tray.
“Then explain what it is.”
He went quiet for a moment.
“I told you the babysitter canceled.”
“And you left Lily alone?”
“My mother said Evelyn would keep an eye on things.”
“Did you speak to Evelyn before you left?”
Another pause.
“Why does that matter?”
“Because she told me what happened when she tried to check on Lily.”
“She doesn't know the whole story.”
“Then tell me the whole story.”
I heard music faintly in the background.
Someone laughed.
Derek lowered his voice.
“Can you stop talking like I'm on trial?”
“I haven't accused you of anything I can't support.”
“You called the police.”
“I found our four-year-old daughter alone in a filthy house.”
“She was fine.”
The words came so quickly that I wondered whether he had been waiting to say them.
I held the phone more tightly.
“She was hungry, Derek.”
“She gets picky.”
“She told me you had been gone for three days.”
“She doesn't understand time.”
“She was alone.”
He exhaled sharply.
“You're making me sound like some kind of monster.”
I closed my eyes.
For years, I would have rushed to reassure him.
I would have told him that I knew he loved Lily, that he had made a mistake, that we could discuss it privately.
I would have tried to pull him back from the edge of his own anger.
But I could still see Lily on the hardwood floor, holding that dirty bowl against her chest.
“I don't have to make you sound like anything,” I said. “I can tell people what I found.”
“You're supposed to be my wife.”
“I am Lily's mother.”
“That isn't what I said.”
“No. It isn't.”
He made a frustrated sound.
“Look, I'm coming home Sunday. We'll sit down and sort this out.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“Because it's true.”
“Are you coming home early?”
“I can't just leave a cruise ship whenever I want.”
“Then stop telling me you're going to come home as though that solves anything.”
He fell silent.
I could hear the music again.
I pictured him standing somewhere bright and crowded, surrounded by people who had not seen what I had seen.
I did not know whether he was embarrassed, frightened, angry, or all three.
I knew only that he was still talking about his inconvenience.
“Did you know Lily had no one with her?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you check before you left?”
“I thought everything was arranged.”
“Who arranged it?”
“My mother.”
“Did you speak to the person who was supposed to watch her?”
He did not answer.
“Derek?”
“I told you what happened.”
“No. You told me what your mother said.”
His voice sharpened.
“Don't start.”
I looked down at the notebook beside me.
“I'm asking a question.”
“You've always done this when you're upset. You get that military tone and start interrogating everybody.”
“I am asking you about our daughter.”
“I'm not doing this over the phone.”
“Then don't call me to tell me I'm doing something wrong.”
I heard a faint click from his end, followed by a muffled voice I could not identify.
He covered the phone, but not before I heard someone ask whether he was coming.
When he spoke again, he sounded more controlled.
“What did you find in the closet?”
I stared at the hospital wall.
“You called to ask about the closet?”
“I asked you a question.”
“And I asked you one first.”
“Hannah, please.”
The word sounded different this time.
Less like a plea and more like a warning he hoped I would understand.
“I need to know what you saw.”
“I saw linens and papers. I don't know what they mean.”
“Did Bell take anything?”
“You need to speak with him about the investigation.”
“I'm asking you.”
“And I'm telling you I won't interfere with what the police need to do.”
He breathed out hard.
“You don't understand what you're setting in motion.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can't.”
“You can't, or you won't?”
He did not answer.
I looked at the phone and thought about the brass padlock lying beside the closet wall.
He had been willing to shout over the sound of music and strangers to keep me away from that door.
He had not called to ask whether Lily was frightened.
He had not asked what the doctors had said.
He had wanted to know whether someone had seen what he had tried to hide.
“Derek, I need you to answer one thing honestly.”
“What?”
“Before you left, did you make sure Lily had a responsible adult staying with her?”
His silence stretched.
“I thought she did.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“You want me to say something that makes me look bad.”
“I want to know what happened.”
He swore under his breath.
Then the call ended.
I stood still for a few seconds, holding the phone against my ear.
There was no sudden burst of clarity.
No confession.
No explanation of the closet.
Just another conversation that ended when I stopped making it easy for him.
I returned to Lily's bedside.
She was awake and watching me.
“Was that Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Is he coming?”
“He says he'll be home Sunday.”
She studied my face.
“Is that soon?”
I sat down beside her.
“It still feels like a long time when you're waiting for somebody.”
She nodded.
Then she pulled the blanket closer to her chin.
I could not promise that Derek would come.
I could not promise what he would say if he did.
I could promise that she would not have to wait alone again.
I rested my hand on the blanket beside hers.
“You don't have to worry about the grown-up things, sweetheart.”
“Okay.”
“You just need to get better.”
She reached for my fingers.
I stayed until she fell asleep again.
When I checked my phone later, Derek had sent another message.
Please don't make this worse than it has to be.
I read it once.
Then I saved it with the other records.
I did not answer.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: I Had Spent Months Trusting My Husband to Keep Our Home Safe, but the People He Trusted Had Left My Daughter Waiting
I Came Home Early Expecting Two Familiar Faces, but the Little Girl on My Floor Made Me Question Everything I Thought I Knew
Part 10 of 12
