I stood so quickly that the chair scraped across Sarah's floor.
“That’s my dad.”
Nobody moved.
My mother closed her eyes.
Derek looked at her.
“You told me Maya’s father disappeared.”
“He did.”
“You said nobody knew where he was.”
“That’s true.”
I pointed at the envelope.
“If nobody knows where he is, why is his name on court papers?”
Mom said nothing.
Deputy Collins carefully read what he could see without opening the envelope.
“This document is dated three months ago.”
Three months.
The words seemed to echo.
“What is it?” I asked.
Elena stepped closer.
“Maya, stay inside.”
“What does it say?”
Mom moved toward me.
“This has nothing to do with what happened.”
Deputy Collins stepped between us.
I looked at the envelope.
“Is my dad alive?”
My mother's face went white.
The room seemed to stop breathing.
Derek turned slowly toward her.
“Maya thinks he might be dead?”
Mom looked away.
I had never been told my father was dead.
Not exactly.
Mom had always said he was gone.
She told me he didn't want us.
That he had chosen another life.
That asking questions would only make me sad.
But suddenly those sentences sounded different.
“Where is he?”
“Maya…”
“Where is my dad?”
She didn't answer.
I raised my voice.
“WHERE IS HE?”
Tears came, but they weren't frightened tears.
They were angry.
Deputy Collins held up the envelope.
“Ms. Valerie, what is this?”
Mom looked at me.
Then she said, “He filed for custody.”
The words made no sense.
“What?”
“He filed for custody three months ago.”
Derek stared at her.
“You knew where he was?”
“He abandoned us years ago.”
“But he filed for custody.”
“He has no right.”
“Where does he live?” Collins asked.
Mom hesitated.
“Seattle.”
The room tilted.
Seattle.
Not missing.
Not vanished.
Seattle.
My father had been living somewhere all this time.
“Does he know where I live?”
Mom said nothing.
Elena's expression hardened.
“Ms. Valerie?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I moved.”
“Did you tell the court?”
Silence.
“Did you tell Mr. Reed?”
Nothing.
Derek covered his mouth.
I stared at my mother.
“You told me he didn't want me.”
“He didn't.”
“He filed for custody.”
“That doesn't mean anything.”
“It means he wanted me.”
“You don't understand.”
“You said he never called.”
“He didn't.”
Deputy Collins looked at the papers again.
“Is there a current court order regarding contact?”
Mom closed her eyes.
That was when I knew there was more.
“What order?” Elena asked.
Mom didn't answer.
“What order?” Elena repeated.
Finally, my mother whispered, “Supervised visitation.”
My knees weakened.
“With Dad?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Did it happen?”
Mom's silence answered.
“No.”
My voice broke.
“You didn't let me see him.”
“He would have confused you.”
“He's my dad.”
“He left you.”
“Then why did a judge tell you to let me see him?”
Mom looked trapped.
For the first time in my life, she had no explanation ready.
Deputy Collins asked, “Were you ordered to facilitate contact?”
“Yes.”
“Did you comply?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what is best for my daughter.”
I started laughing.
I couldn't stop.
Mom looked at me as though I'd become someone she didn't recognize.
My mother had left me alone with twenty dollars for thirty days, and she was still saying she knew what was best for me.
The laugh turned into crying.
Sarah wrapped her arms around me.
I let her.
I didn't care what Mom thought.
Elena stepped away to make a phone call.
Twenty minutes later, she returned.
“Maya.”
I wiped my face.
“What?”
“The custody case is real.”
I already knew.
“There is more.”
Of course there was.
Elena sat beside me.
“Your father has been trying to locate you for nearly a year.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“He filed multiple requests.”
“No.”
“He sent letters through an attorney.”
“No.”
“He requested welfare checks at your previous address.”
I looked at Mom.
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
“He tried to find me?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
Elena paused.
“At least twelve documented attempts.”
Twelve.
Mom had told me zero.
I looked toward the suitcase.
“What else is in there?”
Nobody answered.
I stood.
“What else did she keep from me?”
Mom suddenly snapped.
“Enough.”
Everyone turned.
“I made mistakes.”
“Those aren't mistakes.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you leave me alone?”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
That was the moment I stopped waiting for an explanation.
There wasn't one that could repair six days alone.
There wasn't one that could explain twelve attempts from a father I'd been taught to believe had forgotten me.
Deputy Collins's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
When he hung up, he looked at me.
“We reached Thomas Reed.”
My heart stopped.
“My dad?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked one question.”
“What?”
Collins's voice softened.
“He asked whether you were safe.”
Tears filled my eyes immediately.
Not where was I.
Not whether my mother was being arrested.
Not what would happen to the custody case.
Only whether I was safe.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you are.”
I wiped my cheeks.
“Can I talk to him?”
Elena looked at Collins.
Then nodded.
“We can arrange that.”
“When?”
“Very soon.”
Mom stepped forward.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
“No contact until my attorney is present.”
Elena looked at her.
“You are not currently making that decision.”
Mom went still.
I had never heard anyone say that to her.
The next call came before anyone could speak.
Deputy Collins answered.
His eyes moved toward my mother.
Then toward the open suitcase.
When he hung up, he said, “The court clerk confirmed something else.”
Mom whispered, “Don't.”
That one word frightened me more than any shouting.
“What else?” I asked.
Elena slowly stood.
“A judge ordered your mother to produce records concerning money held in a trust for you.”
I stared at her.
“What trust?”
Nobody answered.
“What money?”
Derek looked at Mom.
“You told me Maya didn't have an inheritance.”
My mother's eyes closed.
And suddenly the abandoned house, the twenty dollars, and my father were no longer separate secrets.
They were pieces of something larger.
Deputy Collins explained that the trust had been created when I was very young.
My father and my grandmother had contributed money to it.
“How much?”
Elena hesitated.
I asked again.
“How much?”
Collins looked down at the court filing.
“The petition references an original balance of approximately eighty-six thousand dollars.”
I thought I had misunderstood.
“Eighty-six thousand?”
Mom interrupted.
“That wasn't all hers.”
Derek stared at her.
“Whose was it?”
“It was complicated.”
“What does complicated mean?”
“It means you don't understand the arrangement.”
I looked at my mother.
“Then explain it.”
She looked around the room.
At the deputies.
At Elena.
At Sarah.
Then at me.
“I used some of it for Maya.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“What did you buy?”
Mom opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I looked down at my shoes.
My backpack had a broken zipper.
My school supplies were old.
The phone Mom had taken away whenever she became angry was barely usable.
“What did you buy for me?”
“Maya, money doesn't work the way you think.”
“I know how twenty dollars works.”
Nobody spoke.
“I know nineteen dollars and thirty-six cents bought bread, peanut butter, bananas, soup, and water.”
Sarah turned away.
“I know sixty-four cents was all I had left.”
Mom's face hardened.
“Don't perform for everyone.”
Perform.
That was her word whenever I said something she couldn't explain.
Elena stepped in.
“This conversation is over for now.”
“No.”
Mom looked at me.
“Maya…”
“I want to know.”
“You don't need to understand everything tonight.”
“I don't want people deciding what I can handle anymore.”
Elena studied me.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
Deputy Collins received another message.
He stepped outside.
Five minutes later he returned with a yellow notepad.
“They found the financial disclosures.”
Mom stood.
“You had no right—”
“Sit down.”
His voice was firm enough that she stopped.
“The trust had approximately ninety-one thousand dollars eighteen months ago.”
I stared at him.
“More than eighty-six?”
“There were deposits.”
“From Dad?”
“Some.”
My throat tightened.
“He was still putting money in?”
“Yes.”
Mom whispered, “That doesn't mean he cared.”
For the first time, I didn't automatically believe her.
Collins continued.
“The current balance is under six thousand.”
Derek sat down.
“Where did the rest go?”
“We're investigating.”
Mom folded her arms.
“It was spent on legitimate expenses.”
“What expenses?”
“Housing. Food. Education.”
I looked at her.
“My school is public.”
Silence.
“Our house was paid for by Grandma.”
Mom's face changed.
I remembered hearing that years ago.
“You always told me we couldn't afford camp.”
Nothing.
“You said braces were too expensive.”
Nothing.
“You said I couldn't take piano lessons because we had bills.”
Sarah looked at Mom.
Derek stood.
“What did you spend it on?”
My mother finally shouted.
“I DESERVED A LIFE TOO.”
Everything stopped.
She seemed to realize what she'd said.
Too late.
Derek stared at her.
Deputy Collins stopped writing.
I felt strangely calm.
“What?”
Mom shook her head.
“That isn't what I meant.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I had expenses.”
“With my money?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
She stared at me.
For once, there was nowhere for her to hide.
The next set of records arrived minutes later.
Luxury travel.
Cosmetic procedures.
Designer purchases.
Restaurants.
Hotels.
Derek closed his eyes.
“Our anniversary?”
No answer.
“New York?”
Silence.
“Miami?”
Mom said nothing.
“You used her money.”
“I was going to repay it.”
Deputy Collins looked up.
“The records show no repayments.”
Mom turned toward him.
“You haven't seen everything.”
“Then produce it.”
She couldn't.
Elena's phone rang.
She answered quietly.
Then looked at me.
“Maya.”
“What?”
“It's your father.”
My heart stopped.
“He's asking if you still want to speak with him.”
I looked at Mom.
Her face changed immediately.
“No.”
Elena ignored her.
“Maya?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Mom stood.
“I object.”
Deputy Collins moved between us.
Elena handed me the phone.
My hand shook so badly I almost dropped it.
I lifted it to my ear.
For two seconds, there was only breathing.
Then a man's voice.
“Maya?”
I couldn't answer.
“Maya, it's Dad.”
My eyes filled.
His voice was older than I remembered.
Deeper.
Tired.
But somehow familiar.
“Hi.”
That was all I could say.
He exhaled shakily.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Mom's voice erupted behind me.
“Don't call her that.”
Deputy Collins moved her away.
My father heard the shouting.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did you get food?”
I looked toward Sarah's kitchen.
“Yes.”
He became silent.
Then I heard him crying.
Not loudly.
Just trying not to.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not finding you sooner.”
Mom had told me he stopped looking.
“You never stopped?”
“I never stopped.”
“You never called.”
“I called.”
“No.”
“I did, Maya.”
“How many times?”
“I don't know anymore.”
He paused.
“Hundreds.”
I looked at Mom.
“I never got them.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Your mother changed your phone number twice.”
My grip tightened.
“She moved without giving me your address. She returned letters. When I finally found your school district, she hired an attorney.”
“Why?”
“She said contact with me upset you.”
“I didn't even know.”
“I know.”
I closed my eyes.
For years, I had believed my father had forgotten I existed.
Now he was crying because he had spent years trying to reach me.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you leave?”
The question had lived inside me forever.
He was quiet.
“We separated when you were four.”
“I know.”
“I didn't leave you.”
“But you moved.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“The court made temporary arrangements while your mother and I fought over custody.”
“She said you chose another family.”
“No.”
“Do you have another family?”
“I remarried.”
My chest tightened.
“I have a stepson.”
“So you were raising someone else while I was here?”
He didn't defend himself.
“That question is fair.”
I wiped my face.
“How do I know you're telling the truth?”
“You don't have to believe me tonight.”
That surprised me.
“You should read everything,” he said. “The court records. My letters. Everything.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
His voice cracked.
“Don't trust me because I'm your father. Trust whatever the evidence shows.”
I stared at my notebook.
That was exactly what I had wanted adults to do with me.
Read everything first.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Did you put money in the trust?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Every month.”
“Why?”
“For your education. Your future. Whatever you needed.”
“Mom spent it.”
He was silent.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Why didn't you stop her?”
“I tried.”
My voice sharpened.
“Everybody keeps saying they tried.”
Silence.
Then he said, “You're right.”
No excuse.
No anger.
Just that.
“You're right, Maya.”
I started crying.
“I needed somebody.”
“I know.”
“Where were you?”
“I was trying to get permission from judges to reach a daughter who didn't know she needed me.”
His voice broke.
“And I'll regret that distance for the rest of my life.”
I couldn't speak.
“You don't have to forgive me,” he said.
“You don't have to live with me.”
“You don't?”
“No.”
“What if I don't know you anymore?”
“Then we start with hello.”
A laugh escaped me through the tears.
He remembered that I used to draw horses with enormous heads.
I laughed.
He laughed too.
For the first time, talking to him didn't feel like talking to a stranger.
It felt like opening a door I hadn't known was locked.
Before we ended the call, he said he was flying toward us that night.
“I won't come near you unless the court and your caseworker say it's okay.”
“Okay.”
“I'm going to be nearby.”
My throat tightened.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Don't disappear.”
There was a long pause.
“Never again.”
The call ended.
I held the phone against my chest.
Then Deputy Collins received another message.
His face changed.
“What happened?” Elena asked.
He looked at Derek.
“You asked whether the Hawaii trip was paid for with Maya's trust.”
Derek nodded.
“We have the answer.”
Mom whispered, “Don't.”
“The resort deposit came directly from the trust.”
Derek stared at her.
“How much?”
“Fourteen thousand eight hundred dollars.”
Mom began speaking quickly.
“I intended to replace it.”
Collins wasn't finished.
“There was another transfer.”
Everyone went still.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” he said. “Two days before Valerie left Maya alone.”
“Where did it go?” Derek asked.
“To an account connected to a private investment company.”
Mom's face collapsed.
Derek stepped backward.
“What company?”
Collins read the name.
Derek went pale.
“That belongs to my brother.”
Nobody spoke.
My mother had used my money to send twenty-five thousand dollars to Derek's brother.
And suddenly the Hawaii trip didn't look like a vacation anymore.
It looked like the beginning of a plan.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: The Money Missing From My Trust Was Only the Beginning, Because My Mother Had Prepared Documents for a Journey She Never Told Me About
Six Days Into My Mother’s Vacation, the Neighbor Looked Through the Window and Realized the Child Inside Had Been Living Alone
Part 3 of 20
