Chapter 5 - Emma’s Practice ListI read the words three times before they made sense.
EMMA ANSWERS TO LILY — PRACTICE LIST.
Underneath were questions and answers.
What is your full name?
Lily Grace Whitaker.
How old are you today?
Four.
What is your mommy’s name?
Clara.
What is your favorite color?
Purple.
What do you call Grandma Louise?
Nana.
What do you call Grandpa Howard?
Papa.
What do you say if someone asks where you live?
With Nana and Papa because Mommy needs help.
My vision narrowed.
Marcus reached for the paper, but Detective Collins stopped him. “Don’t touch.”
His hand dropped, shaking with restraint.
The detective read down the page in silence. The more she read, the harder her mouth became.
Halfway down the page was a line written in red ink.
Do not mention trash. Do not mention sleepy milk. Say Lily went home.
I gripped the doorframe.
“Emma knew?” I whispered.
No one answered.
The thought of my niece sitting somewhere in that house, wearing a plastic tiara, being coached to answer to my daughter’s name, made the world feel unreal. Emma was five. She was not innocent in the pure storybook way adults liked to imagine children, but she was still a child. A child had been placed inside an adult crime like a decoration.
Detective Collins folded the paper into an evidence sleeve.
“I need to speak to Emma with a child specialist,” she said.
Vanessa’s voice exploded from downstairs.
“You are not interrogating my daughter!”
I turned.
Vanessa stood at the bottom of the staircase between two officers, her hair perfect, her mascara smudged just enough to look like suffering. She had changed into flats. She always became practical when she expected a performance to last.
Behind her, my mother stood with a tissue pressed to her nose.
My father was nowhere in sight.
Vanessa looked up at me. “You’re sick, Clara. Dragging my child into your drama because you can’t control yours.”
Something in me went quiet.
I walked down the stairs slowly.
Every officer in the foyer seemed ready to stop me, but Detective Collins did not. Maybe she knew rage like mine was not about swinging. It was about naming things.
When I reached the bottom, I stopped three steps above Vanessa.
“Where is Lily’s shoe?” I asked.
Vanessa blinked. “What?”
“Her shoe. The one missing when I pulled her out of the trash.”
My mother whimpered. “Clara, please.”
I did not look at her.
Vanessa crossed her arms. “How would I know? Maybe she lost it climbing where she shouldn’t have been.”
“Then why was it behind the catering shed?”
Her face flickered.
Only for a second.
But every officer saw it.
Marcus moved beside me. “You carried her.”
Vanessa laughed. “Don’t be disgusting.”
“You carried my drugged daughter behind the shed and put her in garbage.”
“I said don’t be disgusting.”
“Did she wake up?” I asked.
Vanessa’s smile vanished.
The foyer chilled.
“Did she wake up while you were carrying her?” I continued. “Did she ask for me? Did she cry?”
My mother began to sob louder.
Vanessa looked at Detective Collins. “Are you going to let her threaten me?”
Detective Collins’s voice was calm. “She asked a question.”
“I don’t answer to her.”
“No,” the detective said. “You answer to me.”
For the first time all morning, Vanessa looked uncertain.
Then Emma appeared in the dining room doorway.
Her tiara was gone. Her pink dress had frosting on the hem. She held Lily’s stuffed rabbit against her chest.
I felt Marcus tense.
“Emma,” Vanessa snapped. “Go back inside.”
Emma looked at me.
Not at her mother.
At me.
Her lower lip trembled. “I didn’t want to be Lily.”
Vanessa went white.
Detective Collins immediately stepped forward. “Emma, honey, come with me.”
“No,” Vanessa said. “No, absolutely not.”
The female officer blocked her path.
Emma took one step toward me, still clutching the rabbit. “Mommy said if I did good, Grandma would buy me the big dollhouse.”
Vanessa’s face twisted. “Emma!”
My niece flinched.
I hated Vanessa even more for that flinch.
Detective Collins crouched to Emma’s level. “Sweetheart, nobody is angry at you. Can you tell me what you mean?”
Emma looked toward the kitchen, then whispered, “I practiced being Lily because Grandma said Lily’s money was getting wasted.”
Nobody moved.
Detective Collins asked, “What money?”
Emma shrugged, crying now. “The birthday money.”
My mother sank onto the lowest stair.
Vanessa’s voice came out sharp and ugly. “She’s five. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
Emma hugged the rabbit harder. “Aunt Clara, Lily tried to wake up.”
The foyer became airless.
I grabbed the banister.
“What?”
Emma’s tears spilled over. “Behind the shed. She made a little noise. Grandma said hurry.”
My mother made a sound like a wounded animal.
Vanessa lunged toward Emma, but the officer caught her.
“Enough,” Detective Collins said.
Vanessa struggled once.
Then the detective turned to the officers.
“Separate them again. Now.”
As they took Vanessa toward the den, she pointed at me with pure hatred.
“You think you won?” she hissed. “You still don’t know why Mom hated that child.”
Every head turned.
Even my mother stopped crying.
Detective Collins’s eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”
May you like
Vanessa smiled through her tears.
“Because Lily was never supposed to be born.”
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