Chapter 1 - the first fall)
Three months earlier, Rebecca believed she had married the safest man she had ever known.
Daniel Carter was patient when Mia screamed in grocery stores.
He remembered which stuffed rabbit Mia needed before bedtime.
He knew Rebecca liked cinnamon in her coffee but hated it in anything else.
He texted when he arrived somewhere.
He folded laundry without being asked.
He kept emergency numbers taped inside the pantry door.
After Rebecca's first marriage ended in a bitter divorce, Daniel's steadiness felt almost unreal.
Mia's biological father, Adam, lived four states away after accepting a construction management contract in Colorado. He called twice a week and visited whenever the schedule allowed, but he and Rebecca had never managed to repair their marriage.
Daniel entered Rebecca's life slowly.
He never tried to replace Adam.
That was one of the reasons Rebecca trusted him.
"She has a father," Daniel told her on their fourth date. "She doesn't need another one. Maybe someday she'll just need one more person who loves her."
Rebecca remembered crying in the restaurant bathroom afterward because kindness had begun to feel suspicious to her.
Two years later, she married him.
For nine months, life was almost boring.
Then Mia fell for the first time.
Rebecca was at work when Daniel called.
His voice shook.
"Don't panic."
Those two words guaranteed panic.
Rebecca stood from her desk.
"What happened?"
"Mia fell off the couch."
Rebecca grabbed her purse.
"Is she awake?"
"Yes. She's crying. I think she's okay."
At urgent care, the doctor examined Mia and found nothing serious.
Toddlers fell.
Everyone said it.
Toddlers climbed.
Toddlers tripped.
Toddlers seemed determined to discover every hard surface in a house with their forehead.
Rebecca believed it.
The second fall came two weeks later.
Daniel said Mia had slipped in the bathtub.
Again, Rebecca had been away.
Again, Mia was fine.
Again, Daniel looked devastated.
He blamed himself for days.
Rebecca comforted him.
"You can't watch her every second."
"I should."
"No parent can."
"I'm not her parent."
Rebecca smiled.
"You know what I mean."
Daniel looked at Mia across the living room.
Something moved through his expression.
Rebecca thought it was sadness.
Years later, she would remember that look differently.
The third incident was stranger.
Rebecca came home from the grocery store and found Daniel sitting on the kitchen floor with Mia.
Mia looked sleepy.
Too sleepy.
"What happened?"
"She bumped her head on the cabinet."
Rebecca dropped the grocery bags.
"Again?"
Daniel's head snapped up.
The word had offended him.
Rebecca immediately felt guilty.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"She's two, Rebecca."
"I know."
"She climbs everything."
"I know."
Daniel's jaw loosened.
"Sorry."
Rebecca crouched beside Mia.
Her daughter leaned into her.
"Did you bump your head, baby?"
Mia pointed toward Daniel.
Daniel smiled sadly.
"She's blaming me because I told her not to climb."
Rebecca laughed softly.
Mia did not.
That night, Mia woke screaming.
Not crying.
Screaming.
Rebecca rushed into the nursery.
Daniel arrived behind her.
Mia stood in the crib, trembling.
When Daniel approached, she backed into the corner.
Rebecca noticed.
Daniel noticed Rebecca noticing.
"She's scared because I was with her when she fell."
Maybe.
That explanation worked for two days.
Then Mia began doing something else.
Whenever Daniel carried her toward the basement stairs, she screamed.
The basement held nothing frightening.
A washer.
A dryer.
Storage boxes.
Daniel's workbench.
An old freezer.
Rebecca assumed Mia disliked the dark.
Daniel installed brighter lights.
Mia still screamed.
Then came the morning Rebecca found a tiny silver button beneath the crib.
It looked like part of a medical electrode.
She carried it downstairs.
"Daniel?"
He was making pancakes.
She placed the silver piece on the counter.
"Do you know what this is?"
For the first time in their marriage, Daniel answered too quickly.
"No."
Rebecca looked at him.
"You didn't even look."
He laughed.
Then examined it.
"Probably from one of her toys."
Mia had no toy that used medical adhesive.
Rebecca did not know why that thought occurred to her.
She simply knew.
That evening she searched the nursery.
Nothing.
The next morning the silver piece was gone from the kitchen counter.
Daniel said he threw it away.
Rebecca told herself the explanation made sense.
A week later, Daniel suggested installing security cameras inside the house.
Rebecca stared at him.
"Why?"
"So we can finally see what she's doing before these falls."
The suggestion should have comforted her.
Instead, something inside Rebecca tightened.
"Every room?"
"Common areas."
"What about the nursery?"
Daniel hesitated.
"Maybe."
Rebecca shook her head.
"No camera in her room."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want one."
Daniel studied her.
Then smiled.
"Okay."
That night Rebecca woke at three seventeen in the morning.
Daniel was not beside her.
She heard footsteps downstairs.
She followed.
The basement door was open.
A strip of light cut across the hallway floor.
Rebecca descended slowly.
"Daniel?"
No answer.
She reached the bottom.
The workbench was empty.
The freezer hummed.
Storage shelves stood against the far wall.
Then Rebecca saw the backpack.
Daniel kept it behind a stack of paint cans.
She recognized it because she had bought it for him.
The zipper was partly open.
Inside was a folded blanket.
A digital thermometer.
Disposable gloves.
A package of pediatric electrolyte solution.
And a hospital wristband.
Rebecca pulled it out.
The name had been cut away.
Only the date remained.
Six days earlier.
Rebecca's skin turned cold.
A sound came from the stairs.
Daniel stood at the bottom step.
He stared at the wristband in her hand.
For almost five seconds, neither spoke.
Then Daniel smiled.
"Found my emergency kit."
Rebecca looked at the wristband.
"Whose is this?"
"Mine."
"This is pediatric."
Daniel's smile faded.
"I went to the ER with my nephew last year."
"The date says last week."
Silence.
Then Daniel walked toward her.
Rebecca took one step backward.
It was the first time she had ever moved away from him because she was afraid.
Daniel noticed.
His face changed.
Not anger.
Hurt.
Almost convincing hurt.
"Rebecca."
"Whose wristband is this?"
Daniel looked at it.
Then at her.
"The hospital printed the wrong date."
Rebecca stared.
It was such a bad lie that she almost laughed.
But she did not.
Because upstairs, Mia began crying.
Daniel looked toward the ceiling.
And Rebecca saw something else.
Annoyance.
Not concern.
Annoyance.
By the time they reached the nursery, Mia had stopped crying.
She sat in the crib holding her stuffed rabbit.
Daniel stood in the doorway.
Mia looked at him.
Then slowly whispered a word Rebecca had never heard her say before.
"No."
Daniel froze.
Rebecca turned toward him.
May you like
Mia pointed.
"No."
