Chapter 4 - Where Maya Was Supposed to Go
Maya woke shortly after eight.
I sat beside her bed.
For a while, we did not talk.
She ate toast.
Then half a banana.
Then another piece of toast.
I had never been so relieved to watch someone eat.
Finally, I placed her diary on the blanket.
Her face changed.
“You found it.”
“The police did.”
“I’m sorry.”
I hated how often she apologized.
“You do not have to be sorry.”
She touched the silver star sticker.
“I hid it because Isabella searched my room.”
“Why?”
“She said I stole things.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“I know.”
Maya looked toward Noah sleeping in the bassinet.
“Are you mad at me?”
“For what?”
“I called you.”
That nearly broke me.
“Calling me was the bravest thing you could have done.”
“She said I ruined everything.”
“She lied.”
Maya was quiet.
I showed her the page.
“Sweetheart, what did you mean when you wrote that you were going away?”
Her fingers tightened around the blanket.
“I heard Isabella talking to Uncle Julian.”
Maya had always called him Uncle Julian.
That word suddenly made me sick.
“What did they say?”
“They said you were going to sign on Thursday.”
“Yes.”
“And then Isabella said Friday would be easier.”
“Easier for what?”
Maya’s eyes filled.
“She said there was a school.”
“What school?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she say where?”
“Far away.”
My pulse increased.
“What else?”
“She said they take difficult children.”
Rebecca entered while Maya was talking.
She stayed near the door.
Maya continued.
“She said if I told you things, she’d show you a video.”
“What video?”
“I don’t know.”
“She said it proved I hurt Noah.”
My blood turned cold.
There was no such incident.
Or at least none I knew about.
Marcus searched the archived footage.
Two hours later, he found it.
The clip had been edited.
The original recording showed Isabella placing Noah on a sofa beside Maya.
Then Isabella walked away.
Noah began rolling toward the edge.
Maya lunged and caught him before he fell.
In the edited version, the first ten seconds had been removed.
It started with Maya grabbing Noah.
From that angle, it looked as if she had shoved him.
Then Isabella’s voice entered from off-camera.
“Maya, what did you do?”
The clip ended.
Rebecca sat back.
“She manufactured evidence.”
“To convince me Maya was dangerous.”
“And probably to support placement.”
Detective Ruiz contacted child services.
They found an application filed four days earlier.
Isabella had requested evaluation for Maya at Ashbourne Behavioral Academy.
A residential program three states away.
The application described my daughter as violent.
Manipulative.
Jealous of her baby brother.
It included the edited video.
And my electronic signature.
Another forgery.
I stared at the application.
The proposed admission date was Friday at 7:00 a.m.
Tomorrow morning.
Isabella had planned to put my daughter in a residential institution before I even knew there was a problem.
Rebecca turned the page.
Then stopped.
“Nathan.”
“What?”
She pointed to the financial section.
Ashbourne tuition was forty-two thousand dollars per month.
The payer listed was Maya Holloway Trust.
They were going to steal from Maya’s trust to pay for the institution where they planned to hide her.
But the next page was worse.
It named the person authorized to make medical decisions during Maya’s placement.
Not me.
Not Isabella.
May you like
Julian Voss.
---
