CHAPTER 3
Rosa Alvarez called me that afternoon.
I barely recognized her voice.
“Mr. Carter?”
“Rosa.”
There was silence.
Then she started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Those were the first words she said.
Not hello.
Not how are you.
I’m sorry.
I stepped into my office and closed the door while Lily watched cartoons upstairs with a CPS-approved caregiver.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I should have called you.”
“Tell me what happened.”
Rosa took a shaky breath.
“I tried.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Carter watched Lily when you traveled. At first it was yelling. I thought maybe she was stressed.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then?”
“She started making Lily clean things when she was angry.”
“With hot water?”
“Sometimes.”
I closed my eyes.
“How long?”
“Months.”
The word hit me like a fist.
Rosa continued.
“She made her stand facing the wall. She took away food sometimes.”
My eyes opened.
“Food?”
“If Lily didn’t finish chores.”
“She’s four.”
“I know.”
Rosa began crying harder.
“I told Mrs. Carter I would tell you.”
“What happened?”
“She laughed.”
“Why?”
“She said you would believe your wife.”
The answer hurt because there was a chance Victoria had been right.
Rosa continued.
“I started taking pictures.”
“Do you still have them?”
“Yes.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Where?”
“On an old phone.”
“Bring it to the police.”
“I’m scared.”
“Rosa, I’ll protect you.”
“She threatened my immigration status.”
I stood.
“What?”
“She said she knew people. She said she would tell the police I stole from you.”
“You never stole anything.”
“She put one of her bracelets in my purse.”
I felt sick.
“She framed you.”
“I found it before I left the house. I put it on her dresser. Then she fired me.”
“Why didn’t you call me afterward?”
“She sent me pictures of my son outside his school.”
I stopped breathing.
Victoria had never mentioned Rosa’s son.
“She said accidents happen to families who make trouble.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Send everything to Rachel.”
“I already did.”
I nearly collapsed into my chair.
“Thank you.”
“No.”
Rosa’s voice broke.
“I should have done more.”
“You tried.”
“I left Lily there.”
“You were threatened.”
“She was a baby.”
“So is your son.”
Silence.
Neither of us knew what else to say.
Rachel arrived forty minutes later.
The photographs were worse than I expected.
Lily standing in a corner.
Lily holding a heavy laundry basket.
Red marks on Lily’s legs.
May you like
A photograph of Lily’s dinner plate with nothing but dry crackers while Victoria ate steak in the background.
And one photograph I could barely look at.
