Jake’s known for half the day, and he didn’t tell me. Not even when I spoke to him on the phone this afternoon. Why wouldn’t he want to clear his name, after I practically accused him of being Lullaby Doe’s father?

Unfortunately, Jake isn’t the only person I hurled that particular accusation at.

“What’s wrong?” my mother asks. “I thought you’d be happy about all of this.”

“I am. But I kind of … also accused Penn of being the baby’s father.”

“Beckett!”

“I know! I’m sorry! It’s just that at the time, it seemed like a legitimate possibility.”

She stands and rounds the island, where she runs water into a glass at the sink. “You’re going to have to walk me through that one.”

“Daniela’s been absent from school for several days. And Penn can’t find his Titans shirt.”

“What?” My mother turns away from the sink holding her glass. “What’s wrong with Daniela?”

“He says she has the flu. And to be fair, her Insta has been full of artfully focused pictures of cold medicine and tissue boxes for days now.” I lean over the island and pull open the junk drawer, so I can hand her a packet of antacid tablets. She definitely grabbed tacos at work. “Would it be paranoid of me to point out that anyone can take pictures of cold medicine and tissue boxes and claim to have the flu?”

Am I out of my mind to suspect my brother’s girlfriend?

Mom tears open the packet and drops two white tablets into her water glass, where they fizz vigorously. “Beckett, I think it’s time to consider the possibility that a career in law enforcement may not be in your future.”

“Mom, I have no intention of becoming a cop.”

She gives me a surprised look as she lifts her glass. “So, what’s the deal with Penn’s shirt?”

“He says he hasn’t seen it since he ripped one of the armpits. But that he hasn’t really been looking for it, because he can’t wear it now anyway.”

Mom sets her glass down without taking a drink. For a second, she only stares at it, her eyes half-focused. “I’m sure Daniela really just has the flu, hon.”

“I know. And Penn’s shirt is probably buried at the bottom of his hamper.”

We both know he prioritizes gym clothes when he does his laundry.

My mother nods. Then she takes a long gulp from her fizzing water. “And the duffel bag you found wasn’t Penn’s.”