“We don’t know that,” he replied carefully. “And we’re not going to assume it.”
“Then why does her dad want to see me?”
The officers looked at each other once more.
This time Cooper answered.
“Because that’s only half the reason we’re here.”
I felt my stomach drop again.
“What is the other half?”
Officer Daniels slipped his notebook away.
“When Mr. Ortiz called the wheelchair company, he gave them the serial number from Maya’s old chair. Their records showed something that made very little sense.”
“What?”
“The chair was less than eight months old.”
Julian blinked.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Maya told everyone she’d had it for years,” I said.
“That appears to be what she believed.”
Officer Cooper’s expression had become thoughtful.
“According to the manufacturer, that exact wheelchair was supplied new through a charitable equipment program last February.”
I stared at him.
