“No one believes me when I say that. Why should I believe you? The pieces all fit.”

A tear rolls down her cheek. “I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never been pregnant.”

“They took Penn’s DNA. For a paternity test,” I tell her. “We’ll know the truth soon, so you might as well just tell me.”

“Oh my god, Beck!” She looks pale, even in what little light is shining on us both. “Even if the baby is Penn’s, that doesn’t make it mine! Why aren’t you accusing Daniela?”

“I already tried that. She sent him a selfie two days before the baby was born, and she definitely wasn’t pregnant. She also may not have eaten anything in the past … ever.”

“Well, that doesn’t make the baby mine!”

“Lullaby Doe was wrapped in Penn’s shirt, Amira.”

I tick the points off on my fingers as I shout them at her, beyond fed up with not knowing. With being unable to defend myself. And—I’ll just say it—with being unable to deflect the blame.

“The baby was at thirty weeks’ gestation, and you slept with my brother approximately thirty weeks ago. After which you basically disappeared from my life. Then, as soon as I found the baby, you came back, like you wanted to help me. And the worse everything got, the guiltier you looked. Like you wanted to apologize for everything that was happening to me. As if it were all your fault.

“And then you got super involved with the fundraiser and planning the vigil. I thought you were being nice at first, but aren’t those all exactly the things the baby’s mother would do if she wanted to be there for her child, but she couldn’t tell anyone about it?”

“Well, probably!” Amira admits. “And I can see why you might think that. But you’re wrong. I thought you were the mother!”

I blink at her, surprised for a second. Is that the truth, or is she just trying to shock me away from what I’ve uncovered? “Why would you think that? Just because everyone else does?”

“No! I didn’t think that before. Not really. Not until tonight, when you started talking about the community failing Lullaby Doe’s mother. About how someone should have noticed that a friend was pregnant. I thought you were talking to me. About what a crappy friend I’ve been, because I didn’t notice you were pregnant.” She exhales. “Because I wasn’t paying attention. Because I was being selfish.”

“I was talking about me,” I tell her. “I was the crappy friend who didn’t notice that you were pregnant. With Penn’s child.”