Chapter 3: The Explanation That Didn't Add Up
Tara recovered faster than Marcus expected.
Her chin lifted.
Her shoulders pulled back.
And just like that, the woman who had been caught became the woman who had been wronged.
"I must have missed that pocket," she said.
"I was certain it wasn't there."
"You were certain enough to tell me to throw my daughter out of the house," Marcus said.
"I made a mistake.
It happens." She reached for the fifty-dollar bill on the coffee table.
Marcus's hand came down over it first.
Tara looked up at him.
"Marcus."
"Sit down, Tara."
Something in his voice made her pause.
She sat.
Maya hadn't moved from her spot near the hallway.
Her arms were still wrapped around herself, her eyes moving between her father and Tara like she was watching for the moment it was safe to breathe.
Marcus set the bill back on the table between them.
"How long was I gone?"
Tara blinked.
"What?"
"How long was I at the hardware store.
How long."
"I don't know.
An hour, maybe."
"Fifty-two minutes," Marcus said.
"I checked my phone when I pulled in.
Fifty-two minutes." He looked at her steadily.
"And in fifty-two minutes, you went from not knowing that money was missing to being so certain Maya took it that you wanted her removed from this house."
Tara's jaw tightened.
"I checked my purse for something and the money wasn't where I thought it was."
"Where did you think it was?"
"In the main compartment."
"And you never checked the inner pocket."
"Obviously not, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Marcus nodded slowly.
He picked up the fifty-dollar bill and turned it over once in his fingers.
"This pocket has a zipper, Tara.
A zipper you have to press the tab to open.
It doesn't fall open on its own."
Tara said nothing.
"So the money didn't slip in there.
Someone put it there." He set the bill back down.
"The question is whether that someone was you."
"That's an outrageous thing to say."
"Is it?"
Maya made a small sound near the hallway.
Both of them looked at her.
She pressed her back against the wall, her face pale.
"Dad," she said quietly.
"Can I go to my room?"
Marcus looked at her for a moment.
"Yeah, sweetheart.
Go ahead."
Maya moved quickly, her footsteps soft on the stairs.
They both listened until the sound stopped.
Tara leaned forward.
"You're going to believe a twelve-year-old over me."
"I'm going to believe what makes sense," Marcus said.
"And right now, what makes sense is that you knew exactly where that money was."
"I want you to think very carefully about what you're accusing me of."
"I want you to think very carefully about what you did to my daughter today."
Tara stood up.
Her voice dropped, quieter now but sharper.
"You have been looking for a reason to take her side over mine for months.
Every time she's here, you choose her.
Every single time."
"She's my daughter."
"And I'm your partner.
Or I'm supposed to be." Her eyes were hard.
"But she has never accepted me in this house.
You know that.
You've always known that and you've never done a thing about it."
Marcus looked at her for a long moment.
"Maya is twelve years old."
"Old enough to know what she's doing."
"What is she doing, Tara?
Tell me exactly what a twelve-year-old girl is doing that justifies what happened in this room today."
Tara picked up her purse from the coffee table.
She tucked it under her arm.
"I'm going to give you some time to think."
"Tara—"
"Call me when you've decided what actually matters to you." She walked to the door, pulled it open, and stepped out without looking back.
The door closed.
Marcus stood in the quiet living room, the fifty-dollar bill still sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
He picked it up.
Turned it over again.
Then he heard it — a floorboard on the stairs.
He turned around.
Maya was standing at the bottom of the staircase, still in her oversized beige sweater, her eyes red and swollen.
She had heard every word.
"Dad," she said.
May you like
Her voice was very small.
"This isn't the first time she's done something like this."
