I held her gently and looked toward Dr. Lawson.
“What do I do?”

The doctor spoke carefully.
“Right now, keep her somewhere she feels safe. Our pediatric team will continue the evaluation. We can also arrange for a child-protection specialist to speak with her in an appropriate, supportive way. Please don’t press her for details or suggest answers. Let the trained professionals guide the conversation.”
I nodded, though my hands were shaking. Then my phone vibrated again. Daniel was calling. I stared at his name. For six years, that name had meant home. It had meant the man who assembled Lily’s crib, who took photographs of her first steps, who promised me that our daughter would never have to be afraid of anything. Now, every time the phone rang, Lily tightened her grip on my sweater
I declined the call. A message arrived immediately.
*Daniel: Why aren’t you answering? Where are you?*

I felt a coldness spread through my chest. How did he know I was making anything dramatic? I hadn’t told him about the examination. I hadn’t explained why we were at the hospital. I’d barely said anything to anyone. Then I remembered my first call. I’d left him a voicemail telling him Lily was in pain and I was taking her to the emergency department. Perhaps that explained his impatience. Perhaps there was an innocent explanation for everything. I wanted to believe that. God, I wanted to believe that.But then another message appeared.
*Daniel: Don’t let those doctors put ideas in your head. Bring my daughter home.*
I stared at the folder. For years, Emily had been the sister-in-law who brought birthday presents and sent Christmas cards. She had sat at my kitchen table, laughed at Daniel’s jokes, and watched our daughter grow. The thought that she might have known something was wrong made me feel physically ill.

Then Detective Morgan asked,
“Has your husband ever insisted that Lily keep secrets from you?”

I thought about the little gifts Daniel occasionally gave Lily after his business trips.