Kelner came on the line just as Tonya was poised to start down the steps in search of yet more space. She responded to his curt greeting with a seething whisper. “How dare you talk to my daughter.”

“Ms. Sayre, I understand you’re upset.”

“Why would you—”

“Your daughter answered the phone and didn’t identify herself. I’d believed that I was speaking with you.”

“She’s eleven. E-le-ven.” Tonya broke the age into three clear syllables. “We sound nothing, absolutely nothing, alike.”

“On the phone, that’s not clear, and you and I don’t speak—”

“What in the hell did you tell my kid?” Tonya shouted.

Dead air answered.

Tonya tilted her head back in a silent scream. She might not sound like Layla, but she was in her daughter’s exact position. Just as she knew more than she’d told her kid, Kelner had the information that Tonya needed. It was the attorney’s choice—not hers—whether he shared any of it.

The silence on the line made Tonya aware of the sounds below. She glanced through the metal staircase to see a car rumble past and at least one individual lingering on the sidewalk, staring up as though she might be a jumper. She raised a hand in apology and slunk inside.

Back in her bedroom, she forced herself onto her mattress and dialed a second time. Ringing resounded until there was a loud click. Tonya clenched the duvet beneath her, determined to keep her tone neutral as she left a message.

“Have you calmed down?” Kelner answered.

The question didn’t help Tonya’s effort to restrain her anger. She swallowed hard. “I’d like to know what you said to my daughter.”

An exhale, loud as rushing water, reverberated in the speaker. “Thinking she was you, I explained that it had come to my attention that the account had been closed and all remaining funds withdrawn, which I understood must be causing some problems.”

“How is that possible? I don’t even have access to withdraw funds. The rent is direct paid. I—”

“No one is claiming it was you, Ms. Sayre. As I told your daughter, the account is under Layla’s father’s name, and he controls it.”

Tonya sucked in air. “He doesn’t control it. He puts money into it and then automatic bill pay does the rest. That was the whole agreement. Neither he nor I touch it. Whatever remains after the rent and the amount that transfers to me quarterly for groceries and incidentals is held in trust for Layla’s future college payments. She had nearly eighty thousand dollars in there.”

“Ms. Sayre—”