Chapter 3
Dad didn't go back inside.
He stood on the sidewalk holding my overnight bag.
"What are you talking about, Vanessa?"
She leaned against the doorframe.
"Ask your daughter what she did last Tuesday."
My stomach tightened.
Last Tuesday?
I searched my memory.
School.
Homework.
Dinner.
Nothing seemed unusual.
Vanessa looked directly at me.
"Go ahead, Maya. Tell your father."
I shook my head.
"I don't know what you mean."
She gave a bitter laugh.
"Of course you don't."
Dad stepped between us.
"If you have something to say, say it to me."
Vanessa lifted her phone.
"I have proof that she's been stealing money."
The world seemed to tilt.
"What?"
My voice sounded tiny.
"I never stole anything."
Vanessa ignored me.
"Money has been disappearing from my bedroom drawer. I finally figured out why."
Dad didn't move.
"How much?"
"Three hundred dollars."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I wanted to be sure."
She turned the screen toward him.
I couldn't see it clearly.
Dad watched for several seconds.
Then he frowned.
"That's Maya walking into our bedroom."
"Exactly."
"That doesn't prove she stole money."
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
"Why else would she sneak in there?"
I suddenly remembered.
Last Tuesday.
The blue scarf.
I had gone into Dad's bedroom because Vanessa had moved my mother's memory box into their closet.
I had seen her carrying it upstairs.
I thought she might throw everything away.
I only wanted to get the scarf before she did.
"Daddy," I whispered.
He looked down.
"I went in there."
Vanessa straightened.
"See?"
"But I didn't take money."
"Then what did you take?"
I held up the scarf.
"This."
Dad stared at it.
Then at Vanessa.
"Why was my daughter's mother's scarf in our bedroom?"
Vanessa shrugged.
"I was organizing."
"You moved her mother's things?"
"They were cluttering the hallway closet."
Dad's voice became dangerously calm.
"Those things belong to Maya."
Vanessa looked furious.
"You're missing the point."
"No. I'm starting to understand the point."
He turned toward me.
"Did you take anything else?"
I shook my head.
"I only wanted Mommy's scarf."
Dad nodded.
"I believe you."
Vanessa made an angry sound.
"Of course you do."
Dad looked at her.
"If you actually believe money was stolen, we'll review everything properly. But you're not accusing my child without evidence."
He opened the car door for me.
I climbed inside.
My hands were still trembling.
Through the window, I watched Dad speak quietly to Vanessa.
I couldn't hear everything.
But I heard one sentence.
"Do not contact Maya until I decide what's safe."
Vanessa went completely still.
Then Dad got into the driver's seat.
He didn't start the car immediately.
He sat looking at the steering wheel.
"Daddy?"
He turned.
"I'm here."
"Do you believe I didn't steal?"
"Yes."
"What if she finds more pictures?"
"Then we'll look at them together."
I studied his face.
"You're not mad at me?"
"I'm angry that you've been carrying this alone."
He reached across the seat and squeezed my hand.
Then he started driving.
We went to Grandma Evelyn's house.
She was Dad's mother.
She lived about twenty minutes away in a small brick home with a yellow front door.
Grandma opened it before we reached the porch.
"Marcus?"
Then she saw me.
Her smile disappeared.
"Oh, my baby."
I ran into her arms.
Grandma smelled like vanilla soap and fresh laundry.
She held me tightly.
"What's happened?"
Dad looked exhausted.
"Mom, can Maya stay with you tonight?"
"Of course."
Grandma pulled me inside.
She made hot chocolate.
She gave me a soft blanket.
And she didn't ask questions until I stopped shaking.
Dad explained everything while I sat beside Grandma.
The more he spoke, the quieter she became.
When he mentioned the missed dinners, she set her cup down.
"Marcus Carter."
Dad looked at her.
"Mom, I know."
"No. You don't."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"You don't know how many times that little girl came here asking whether she was difficult to love."
I looked up.
"Grandma..."
Dad turned toward me.
"What?"
Grandma stroked my hair.
"She asked me last month whether children could make their parents stop loving them."
Dad covered his mouth.
I wanted to disappear.
I hadn't meant for Grandma to tell him.
But she continued.
"And when I asked why, she said she was just wondering."
Dad leaned forward.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Grandma looked at him sadly.
"Because she begged me not to upset you. I thought she was struggling with the changes at home. I didn't know it had become this."
Nobody spoke.
Then Dad got up and walked into the kitchen.
I heard him crying.
Not loudly.
Just a broken sound that made my chest ache.
I wanted to go after him.
Grandma held my hand.
"Give him a moment, sweetheart."
A few minutes later, Dad returned.
His face was wet.
He knelt beside my chair.
"I should have noticed."
I shook my head.
"You were working."
"Being busy doesn't excuse missing what matters."
He kissed my hand.
"I'm going to make this right."
That night, I slept in Grandma's guest room.
Dad stayed too.
For the first time in months, I didn't worry about hearing Vanessa's footsteps outside my door.
But I couldn't sleep.
I kept thinking about the missing money.
The camera.
The accusation.
Around midnight, I heard Dad talking on the phone downstairs.
"No, I didn't authorize any withdrawal."
A pause.
"How much?"
Another pause.
Then his voice changed.
"That can't be right."
I sat up.
He spoke again.
"Send me the statements. All of them."
Something in his tone frightened me.
I quietly opened my bedroom door.
From the staircase, I could see him standing near Grandma's kitchen.
He had one hand pressed against his forehead.
"Three months?" he whispered.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"Vanessa told me that account was empty."
He ended the call.
For a long moment, he stood completely still.
May you like
Then he looked toward the stairs.
And saw me watching him.
