Chương 3
“Why?”
“He pays for it.”
“That doesn’t make it his.”
“He says it does.”
Dana wrote something down. “Do you know the passcode?”
“Yes.”
“Would you consent to investigators looking at it if they recover it?”
Chloe’s stomach tightened.
There were no photographs of injuries. She had deleted them. There were no messages describing what happened. She never wrote words like hit, hurt, afraid, or Dad. She had searched how long bruises lasted, whether cracked ribs healed alone, and whether a person could be arrested for lying to a doctor. She had also searched cheap apartments, emancipation laws, and bus routes to cities she had never visited.
There was a note in her phone titled Groceries. Inside were dates.
April 6 — shoulder.
April 19 — stairs.
May 2 — kitchen chair.
May 18 — blue cup.
June 1 — Savannah saw.
She had kept the list without deciding why.
“No,” Chloe said.
Dana did not press. “All right.”
“Can they look anyway?”
“Possibly, depending on legal authority and who owns the account or device. But your wishes still matter, and you can speak with an advocate.”
“My dad says nothing on a phone is private.”
“He’s not entirely wrong about phones leaving records. That doesn’t mean he gets to control every part of your life.”
Chloe closed her eyes.
Her father had many beliefs that became rules by repetition. Privacy was dishonesty. Disagreement was disrespect. Fear meant guilt. Family matters stayed inside the family. Mothers kept families together. Older sisters set examples. Younger daughters learned from consequences.
At two thirty, Detective Morgan returned with a paper bag containing Chloe’s phone and a charger.
“We recovered these from your father’s vehicle,” she said. “He gave written consent for us to retrieve your property but not to search the device.”
“Why would he give it back?”
“He says he has nothing to hide.”
That sounded like him.
Morgan set the bag beside Dana. “Your mother has been released from the interview room. She won’t be allowed to visit until the hospital team decides it’s appropriate.”
“Did she tell you?”
“I can’t discuss her full statement with you.”
“She said I fell.”
Morgan’s silence answered.
“What about Savannah?”
“She gave us some information.”
Chloe turned too quickly and gasped.
Dr. Reyes, who had entered behind Morgan, steadied the bed rail without touching Chloe. “Slowly.”
“What information?”
Morgan looked at Dana, then at Chloe. “She confirmed there have been other incidents in the house.”
The room became very still.
“She’s lying.”
“You think she would lie about that?”
“She lies when she wants something.”
“What would she want?”
Chloe did not have an answer ready.
Savannah wanted tuition. Her father paid the portion not covered by scholarships. She wanted the silver car she had been promised after her second year. She wanted to transfer to a university two hours away. She wanted to be praised for becoming independent while remaining financially dependent in all the ways that mattered.
“She wants attention,” Chloe said.
Morgan’s expression did not change. “She also said she saw bruises before today.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“No. By itself, it doesn’t.”
“Did she say he did it?”
Morgan paused. “She said she was not present for most injuries.”
Most.
The word lodged under Chloe’s breastbone.
Dr. Reyes explained the medical plan. Two ribs appeared fractured, one likely more recent than the other. Other injuries showed different stages of healing. There was no need for surgery, but Chloe would remain overnight for monitoring and pain control. A specialist would return in the morning. Dr. Reyes used careful words: consistent with, concerning for, requires further evaluation.
She never said the X-rays proved everything.
Chloe appreciated that more than certainty.
After they left, she unlocked her phone.
There were twenty-three missed calls from her mother.
Six from Savannah.
One voicemail from her father, left before his phone had been taken.
Chloe stared at the notification until the screen dimmed.
Then she played it.
Her father’s voice filled the room, low and controlled.
“Chloe, this has gotten out of hand. I need you to think carefully before you speak to people who don’t understand our family. Your mother is falling apart. Savannah may lose school. I may lose work. You had an accident. We all agree on that. Call me when you’re ready to fix this.”
He did not apologize.
He did not ask whether she was in pain.
He sounded tired, as though she had created an administrative problem.
Chloe listened twice more.
On the fourth time, Dana entered and heard the final sentence.
She stopped near the door. “Do you want me to ask Detective Morgan to preserve that message?”
Chloe locked the phone. “No.”
Dana looked at her for a moment. “Okay.”
“You think I should.”
“I think it may be important.”
“He’s just scared.”
“Probably.”
“He could lose everything.”
Dana sat. “That may also be true.”
Chloe waited for the part where Dana explained what the correct response was. Adults liked to turn complicated things into choices with obvious moral labels.
Dana only asked whether Chloe wanted the lights dimmed.
By evening, the medication had softened the pain enough that Chloe could breathe without counting. She watched half of a cooking competition and muted it because the cheering made her nervous. The nurse brought chicken broth, crackers, and a red gelatin cup.
Chloe hated red gelatin.
She ate it anyway.
At seven fifteen, her mother appeared in the doorway with Dana beside her.
Mrs. Vance had washed her face. Her cream blouse was wrinkled at the waist, and her handbag was gone. Without it, her hands looked purposeless.
“You have ten minutes,” Dana said. “The door stays open.”
Mrs. Vance nodded.
She moved toward the bed, stopped when Chloe stiffened, and chose the chair instead.
For several seconds she stared at the television, where a chef was removing a burnt pie from an oven.
May you like
“Your father has been taken to the county jail,” she said.
Chloe picked at the blanket seam.
