“We will be speaking to your husband.”
Kate’s face changed instantly.
That reaction was different.
It wasn’t fear for Paige.
It was fear of what someone else might say.
I noticed it before the investigator did.
“Where is your husband?” I asked.
Kate looked at me.
“He’s shopping.”
“You came here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he come with you?”
“He had something to finish.”
The investigator studied her.
“What was his name again?”
Kate answered.
The investigator wrote it down.
Then her phone rang.
She stepped away to answer it.
I stood beside Kate in silence.
Neither of us looked at the other.
A minute later, the investigator returned.
“We need your husband’s location.”
Kate’s face went blank.
“I told you. He’s shopping.”
“The hospital has received information that he has not been at the store you mentioned.”
Kate stared at her.
“I never hurt her,” I said. “I found the bruise.”
Kate shook her head immediately.
“There was no bruise when I left.”
The investigator looked at her.
“Then why did you tell us your sister contacted you because the baby wouldn’t stop crying?”
Kate hesitated.
“Because that’s what happened.”
“No,” I said. “That isn’t what happened.”
I stepped closer, my hands still shaking from everything that had happened since I uncovered Paige’s injury.
“She told me Paige was teething. She said she had a rough night. Then she handed me Paige and told me I was the one person she trusted to make the call if the baby got too fussy.”
Kate’s expression changed for only a second.
But the investigator noticed.
“So you remember saying that?” the investigator asked.
Kate crossed her arms.
“I was exhausted. I might have said something like that.”
“You did,” I said.
Kate looked at me sharply.
“And you were alone with Paige for twenty minutes?” the investigator asked me.
“About twenty minutes before she started screaming differently.”
The doctor returned from the examination room.
She had a folder in one hand and a look on her face that made the hallway feel smaller.
“Her imaging confirms a serious fracture involving the left leg,” she said. “There is also extensive soft-tissue injury.”
Kate closed her eyes.
I watched her carefully.
Not once did she ask how bad the fracture was.
Not once did she ask whether Paige was going to recover.
Her first question was, “When did this happen?”
The doctor answered, “We cannot determine the exact moment from the examination alone.”
Kate exhaled.
Then she looked directly at me.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
I felt something cold move through me.
“What were you afraid of?”
She didn’t answer.
The investigator stepped between us.
“Ms. Kate, we need to understand the condition Paige was in when you brought her to your sister’s home.”
“She was fine.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was her injured thigh covered with cosmetic concealer?”
Kate froze.
The silence was so complete that I could hear the wheels of a hospital cart squeaking somewhere down the corridor.
“I don’t know,” she finally said.
I stared at her.
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“You put makeup on her.”
“I did not.”
The investigator looked down at her notes.
“Your sister found a floral cosmetic scent on the area. The doctor documented residue consistent with a cosmetic product. The discoloration underneath was concealed by a thick layer.”
Kate’s face tightened.
“That doesn’t prove I did it.”
“No,” the investigator said calmly. “It doesn’t.”
That answer seemed to surprise Kate.
For the first time since she arrived, she looked less confident.
The investigator continued.
“But it does mean we need to establish who had access to Paige before she was brought here.”
Kate immediately pointed at me.
