Maya sat on her couch staring at the same four walls she’d been staring at for a week. The apartment felt smaller every day. Emptier. The borrowed crib in the corner mocked her—still set up, still waiting, still unused.
Her phone buzzed. Detective Chen’s name appeared on the screen.
Maya answered immediately. “Did you find her?”
“Not yet.” Chen’s voice was careful, measured. “But we’d like to talk to you again. Can we come by this afternoon?”
Maya’s stomach sank. Another interview. Another round of questions. “What time?”
“Two o’clock? Detective Mills and I will both be there.”
“Okay.”
After Chen hung up, Maya looked around her apartment. At the dishes piled in the sink from meals she couldn’t bring herself to eat. At the laundry she hadn’t touched. At the hospital paperwork scatter
