Chapter 4 - My Daughter Called
Now, in the foyer, after her mother’s sentence about which granddaughter mattered, the paramedics finally reached them.
One stepped close but careful.
“Ma’am, we need to take her.”
Emma’s arms tightened reflexively.
The paramedic’s voice softened.
“I know. We need to help her.”
Emma looked at Lily’s face.
Then forced herself to release.
It was the hardest movement she had ever made.
They transferred Lily to the stretcher with practiced urgency.
One paramedic checked her breathing while the other stabilized her head and spoke into a radio.
Emma moved with them, one hand still holding Lily’s fingers.
Patricia spoke behind her.
“She fell. Children fall.”
Emma turned.
The look on her face made Patricia stop.
The front door opened wider.
Two police officers entered behind the paramedics.
So that was who the footsteps belonged to.
Not a dramatic savior.
Not a relative.
Not Emma’s husband, because there was no husband to arrive.
Procedure.
Witnesses.
Questions.
Consequences beginning to take shape under the chandelier.
Robert’s face drained completely.
Patricia’s champagne flute finally lowered.
The lead officer looked at Emma.
“You’re the caller?”
Emma held up Lily’s phone.
“My daughter called.”
The officer’s expression changed.
“She called 911?”
Emma nodded.
“She’s six.”
The dispatcher’s voice still faintly echoed from the phone until Emma ended the call at the officer’s instruction.
The room seemed to shrink around that fact.
A six-year-old had called for help.
Not an adult.
Not a grandparent.
Not an uncle.
Not any of the beautifully dressed people standing under balloons.
A child.
David covered his face with one hand.
Karen began crying silently.
Patricia recovered enough to speak.
“This is being blown out of proportion. She fell upstairs during a childish tantrum.”
The officer looked at the stretcher.
Then at Emma.
Then at Patricia.
“Who was with the child when she fell?”
No one answered.
Emma said, “My mother.”
Patricia’s eyes flashed.
Robert said, “Emma, be careful.”
Emma turned toward her father.
“I was careful my whole life. Look where it got my daughter.”
That shut him up.
At the hospital, time lost shape.
Bright lights.
Medical questions.
CT scan.
Blood pressure.
Pupil checks.
A nurse cutting away a small part of Lily’s cardigan sleeve to place an IV.
Emma signed forms with a hand that did not feel like hers.
She repeated the same answers.
Six years old.
Possible head injury.
Unconscious after incident.
Swollen cheek.
Blood near lip.
Known fever earlier.
911 call active.
Family present.
Grandmother present upstairs.
The doctor listened carefully.
Too carefully for comfort.
A social worker arrived.
Then a detective.
Emma’s phone had thirty-seven missed calls from Patricia, Robert, David, and Karen.
She answered none.
The detective, a woman named Angela Price, introduced herself in a quiet voice outside Lily’s room.
“I know this is overwhelming.”
Emma looked through the glass at Lily on the hospital bed.
“Ask me.”
Detective Price nodded.
“What happened before you found her?”
Emma told her.
Not perfectly.
Not in order.
Birthday party.
Fever.
Guest room.
Crying.
Robert blocking stairs.
David frozen.
Patricia upstairs.
Olivia crying.
Lily on floor.
911 call.
Patricia saying she fell.
Patricia saying which granddaughter mattered.
Detective Price did not interrupt.
When Emma finished, the detective asked, “Does the house have cameras?”
Emma almost said no.
Then stopped.
“Front door.”
“Inside?”
“Patricia hates cameras inside.”
“Outside audio?”
“I don’t know.”
Emma frowned.
“Wait.”
She remembered the baby monitor.
Not Lily’s.
Olivia’s.
Karen had placed a portable baby monitor in the upstairs guest room earlier for a visiting toddler cousin to nap, then moved the toddler to another room because the magician’s props needed space.
Had she turned it off?
Emma looked at Detective Price.
“There may have been a monitor in the room.”
The detective’s eyes sharpened.
“Who owns it?”
“Karen.”
“Will she cooperate?”
Emma thought of Karen’s terrified silence.
“I don’t know.”
At 11:18 p.m., Lily opened her eyes.
Emma was beside her instantly.
“Baby.”
Lily’s gaze was unfocused.
Then frightened.
Her lips moved.
No sound came.
Emma leaned closer.
“You’re safe. I’m here.”
Lily’s eye tracked slowly.
“Rabbit?”
Emma froze.
The stuffed rabbit was still on the stairs.
At the house.
“I’ll get him.”
Lily’s face crumpled.
“Grandma threw him.”
Emma’s chest tightened.
Detective Price, standing near the doorway, heard it too.
Emma brushed Lily’s hair back carefully.
“Where did she throw him?”
Lily’s voice was tiny.
“Stairs.”
That explained the rabbit on the step.
Not slipped.
Thrown.
Emma felt the room tilt.
Lily’s eyes filled.
“I wanted Mommy.”
Emma kissed her forehead.
“You got me.”
“I called.”
“I know.”
“Grandma said no one would come if cake was out.”
Emma had to turn away for one second because her face could not hold all the pain at once.
May you like
Then she looked back.
“She was wrong.”
