TIMOFEY
She called me.
Piper called me the day Benjamin was kidnapped.
I can see it all so clearly: Benjamin in his fifth or sixth outfit of the day. A pile of dirty diapers exploding out of the diaper pail. My shirt is covered in formula and spit-up. My hands were full, and I couldn't answer the phone when it rang.
But it did ring. She called.
Is she telling the truth?
The question tickles the back of my mind as Ashley marches confidently ahead of me. She walks past the porch where Piper's grandmother is sitting and leads me to a bench in the shaded corner of the courtyard. It's within sight of the porch, but well out of earshot.
She sits down in the center of the bench, arms spread wide, making it clear I'm not welcome to join her. "We need to talk."
"I'm not sure that's true," I tell her. "It's probably better for both of us if we never talk."
