I Move My Feet
I thought the logistics were strange, but she said it with such conviction.”
I passed it to Daniel, leaning against the refrigerator. His jaw worked.
Patricia hadn’t just abandoned a child. She’d built a false story to cover the empty space where her granddaughter should have been.
Mark called shortly after. He’d asked his ten-year-old, Ethan, about it. When the boy had wondered aloud why his cousin wasn’t in the toy aisle, Patricia had told him, “Mia’s in a time-out learning a lesson.”
“Ethan figured she was sitting on a bench with a security guard or one of the aunts,” Mark said. “He’s gutted.”
“He’s ten, Mark. Get that guilt off him now.”