Molly looked at the money.
Then she looked at me.
“That money belongs to me.”
“Then tell us why it was in your backpack.”
“I wasn’t the one who put it there.”
Tara looked at me as if the case were closed.
“You see?”
Molly took a small step back.
It was tiny.
But I saw it.
“Molly,” I said, “tell me everything.”
“Are you going to believe me?”
“I’m going to listen.”
“That’s different from what I asked.”
Behind me, Tara let out a loud sigh.
“This is what she does, Scott. She turns everything into whether we believe her.”
Tears filled Molly’s eyes, but she never once looked at Tara.
She kept her eyes on mine.
“Dad, before you believe her, please call Grandma.”
“What for?”
“Because Grandma knows something you haven’t heard.”
I reached for my phone.
Tara’s hand came down over the screen.
“If you call her,” she said softly, “you can pack your own bag.”
Chapter 2: What Grandma Knew
I looked at her hand on my phone.
Nine years of marriage to Karen and one to Tara, and nobody had ever covered my phone like that.
“Take your hand off it,” I said.
It was the quietest I have ever been angry.
Tara pulled back as if the screen were hot.
I dialed.
Jean answered on the first ring.
“Scott.” Her voice was steady and dry, like paper. “Is Molly’s purple suitcase standing by the front door?”
My throat closed.
“How did you know that?”
“Because Molly texted me at 4:40, from under her blanket.” A pause. “Is Tara in the room?”
“Yes.”
“Then say as little as you can. Don’t let Molly get in a car. Don’t sign anything. I’m twenty-five minutes away, and I’ll do it in nineteen.”
She hung up.
Tara had gone very still.
“What did she say?”
“She said she’s coming.”
“I told you not to call her.”
“She’s Molly’s grandmother.”
“She’s a bitter old woman who has been waiting six years to take that child back.”
I had no answer.
