Chapter 9: The Drawing on the Wall
Ilaria had taped it to the wall above her bed.
Three figures, drawn in crayon.
A tall one on the left with dark hair — Evren, identifiable by the lopsided smile she always gave him.
A small one in the middle in a wheelchair, which was Ilaria herself, rendered in careful detail, the wheels perfectly round.
And on the right, a figure with lighter hair and a yellow dress.
Lena stood in the doorway and looked at it.
"I drew that a long time ago," Ilaria said from her bed.
"When I still thought you were coming back."
Lena walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it.
"I was always coming back."
"You were gone a really long time."
"I know." She didn't offer an explanation.
Ilaria was four.
There would be time for the truth in pieces, in the right words, at the right ages.
"I'm sorry I was gone so long."
Ilaria considered this with the gravity that four-year-olds sometimes brought to serious things.
"Daddy cried once.
He thought I was asleep."
Lena looked at her hands.
"I know he did," she said.
"Is the bad lady coming back?"
Lena looked up.
"No.
She's not coming back."
"She said you left because of me."
"She was wrong." Lena reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Ilaria's ear.
"I left because of her.
And I came back because of you."
Ilaria thought about that.
Then she held out her rabbit.
"You can hold Bunny if you want," she said.
"He helps."
Lena took the rabbit and held it carefully with both hands.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." Ilaria lay back against her pillow.
"Will you stay until I fall asleep?"
"Yes."
"And after?"
"And after."
Ilaria closed her eyes.
Within minutes her breathing slowed and evened out.
Lena sat on the edge of the bed for a long time after that, holding the rabbit, watching her daughter sleep.
In the weeks that followed, the case moved the way Defne had warned — slowly, with long silences between developments, and then suddenly all at once.
Selin's phone records came back with a subpoena result that Defne called Evren about on a Tuesday morning.
"She didn't act alone," Defne said.
"There are messages to a contact we're still identifying.
Purchases made three months before Ilaria's symptoms began.
And—" a pause — "she called her own mother the night Lena left.
The transcript of that call is going to matter."
"What did she say?"
"She said, and I'm reading directly: *Lena found out.
I need you to tell anyone who asks that Lena was unstable.
That she made things up.
That she was never a good mother.* Her mother agreed." Another pause.
"Her mother has since been interviewed.
She's cooperating with investigators."
Evren sat down.
"Her own mother."
"It happens," Defne said.
"People protect themselves first.
Her mother has decided that cooperating is the better option." She paused.
"Selin was formally charged yesterday.
Child endangerment with intent.
Aggravated by the duration and the premeditation.
Her attorney has already requested bail."
"Will she get it?"
"Possibly.
But there are conditions being requested — no contact with Ilaria, surrender of passport, mandatory check-ins." Defne's voice was measured.
"Evren.
This is the part where you have to let the system do its work.
I know that's hard."
"I know," he said.
"How is Ilaria?"
He looked through the kitchen doorway.
Ilaria and Lena were at the coffee table.
Lena was reading aloud from a picture book, doing different voices for each character, and Ilaria was laughing — a real laugh, unguarded, the kind that came from somewhere deep and safe.
"She's better," he said.
"She's a lot better."
He hung up and stood in the doorway and watched them for a moment without announcing himself.
Lena looked up and caught his eye.
She didn't say anything.
She just looked at him the way people look at each other when they've been through something that can't be fully explained to anyone who wasn't there.
He walked in and sat down on the floor beside Ilaria's wheelchair.
"What are we reading?" he asked.
"The one about the bear," Ilaria said.
"Mama does the bear voice."
"She does?"
"It's very good," Ilaria said seriously.
Lena cleared her throat and resumed the bear voice.
Ilaria dissolved into laughter again.
Evren leaned back against the couch and let it wash over him — the sound of his daughter laughing, the afternoon light coming through the window, the ordinary and extraordinary fact of this moment.
His phone buzzed once on the coffee table.
He looked at the screen.
A message from Defne: *Bail denied.
She stays in custody pending trial.*
May you like
He turned the phone face-down.
He didn't need to read anything else today.
