Chapter 2
The living room didn't move after my dad said it.
"I believe you deserve the truth."
He was still between us. I could hear the hardwood creak a little under his weight. My dad's hand wasn't on me, not yet, but his shoulder was angled toward me enough that I felt blocked from Tara. My cheeks were wet and I didn't wipe them because I didn't want to move my hands out of my sweater sleeves.
Tara didn't look at me. She looked at him. Her black shirt was buttoned all the way up and her gold necklace caught the light from the windows. She held her purse against her hip with both hands, not hanging from her shoulder, clutching it.
"Marcus, I want your daughter out of this house," she had said. It was still in the air.
My dad breathed once, slow. I saw his jaw tighten under his beard.
"Tara," he said. His voice was lower now, not loud. "Being the only person here doesn't prove she took it."
"Then where is my money?" she said.
It was exactly how she'd said it before. Sharp at the end, like she expected an answer right then.
My dad didn't answer right away. He glanced at me, then back at her. His silver watch shifted on his wrist when he lifted his hand, palm out, just enough to make her pause.
"I don't know yet," he said. "Well, we're going to find out before we accuse my daughter."
Tara's fingers tightened on her purse. The leather made a soft creak.
"Because the money didn't disappear by itself," she said.
She said it looking straight at me this time. My throat did that thing where it closed before I could swallow. I had said "I didn't take your money" and she had answered with that line, and now she was saying it again like it was proof.
"Dad, you have to believe me," I had told him. My voice had come out smaller than I wanted it to.
He had answered me, not her. And now Tara acted like that didn't count.
My dad stepped half a step closer to her, not threatening, just placing himself more squarely in the middle of the room. The pendant light above the hallway buzzed very faintly. Outside the windows the daylight was still warm and ordinary, which made it stranger.
"We're going to retrace steps before anyone is sent away," he said. His tone didn't go up at the end. It wasn't a question. "No one leaves this house until we check. That's how we do this. We check the purse, we check where you had it, we check the rooms. Together."
Tara's mouth pressed into a line. She didn't let go of the purse.
"You were gone and Maya was the only other person here," she said. She was repeating it, like if she said it enough it would become the only fact that mattered. "$50 is missing from my purse."
"We'll verify that," my dad said. He kept his hands still at his sides after that one gesture. "If it's missing, we'll find where it went. But we're not putting my daughter out on an assumption."
For a second I thought Tara would argue louder. Instead she lifted her chin and held her ground. She was still clutching that purse. That was her control in the room — she was the one who said what was missing, she was the one holding the evidence.
My dad turned his head toward me then. His eyes softened just a little, but his voice stayed even.
"Maya, go sit on the stairs for a minute, okay?" he said. "You're not in trouble. I just need you right there where I can see you while I talk to Tara."
I didn't want to move away from him, but I nodded. My cream sweater felt heavy on my shoulders, the ribbed neckline a little itchy against my neck now that I was hot from crying. I took three steps back until the edge of the hardwood met the first stair. The wood was cool through my socks. I sat on the second step, knees pulled in, hands tucked into my sleeves.
From there I could still hear everything. I could see the whole living room. My dad stayed standing near the hallway entrance, Tara near the couch with her purse still locked against her body, and between them a few feet of empty hardwood floor that felt like a line no one wanted to cross.
Tara looked down at her purse and then back at my dad.
"Fine," she said. "Search. You'll see I'm not making this up."
"We will," he said. "Maya stays here in this house while we do it. We do it together, out in the open, so there's no question later."
He glanced back at me to make sure I heard that part. I nodded again, even though tears were still sliding. I wiped one cheek with the heel of my hand and left my other hand fisted in my sweater.
"Stay right there, Maya," he said, quieter, just to me. "When we start searching, I'll call you back over. Don't go upstairs, don't go to your room yet. Just wait."
"Okay," I said. My voice cracked.
Tara exhaled through her nose, not quite a sigh, and finally loosened one hand from her purse to adjust the strap. She didn't put it down. She held it out slightly toward my dad like, see.
My dad nodded once, accepting the pause but not the conclusion.
May you like
"Give us a minute," he told her. "Then we start in the living room."
The hallway went quiet. The air conditioner clicked on somewhere. I sat on the stairs with my back against the railing, listening to them breathe in the same room without speaking, waiting to be called back.
