Chapters (65)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Part Two
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Part Three
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- About the Publisher
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “Can I ask you—did you, by any chance, did you clean this room earlier?” I stood up and smoothed the bedding where I’d been sitting.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said.
“Hi, I’m Ruth.” I reached out my hand and stepped a bit closer.
“Hello.” She reached out and took just the ends of my fingertips and only briefly.
“Can I call you Marti?” I pointed to her name badge.
She touched the front of her smock and looked toward the open door to the hallway.
“It’s okay,” I said, “I am a family member of the woman who was in here.” I walked to the window. “I’m trying to find out why she left.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am.” Marti lowered her head and moved closer to the bed I’d been sitting on, the one I’d made not sterile.
“What did the room look like when you found it?” I asked, setting my purse down on the window ledge, balancing it so it wouldn’t fall. “It’s very clean now, but what was it like this morning?” I folded my arms and leaned against the ledge. “It was very early in the morning, right?”
“Yes.” The cleaning woman lifted the top layer from the bed and pulled it back. “I came on at five a.m.”
“What did you see?”
“That window was open.” She pointed at me.
“This window here?” I stepped away and pointed to the left side. The window was a slider, so there were technically two panes in the opening.
“Yes, that side, the left side.” She pointed to the side nearest the bathroom door, in the corner. She turned back to the bed and continued pulling up sheets.
“Okay, what else?” I examined the window ledge outside. Brick. About eighteen inches deep, crusted with small drifts of snow.
Marti stopped to think. She pointed to the floor. “There was water there. Snow had blown in and melted. I cleaned it up.”
“Uh-huh.” I reached into my purse for something better to write on. I wished I had my recorder, but I found my journal instead. “And was the baby in the room? Or anyone else here?”
“No baby,” she said, dumping an armful of sheets into the round bin attached to her cart. “No woman, nobody.”
“The bassinet?”
“I don’t remember.” She bent down to the lower level of her cart and collected a tightly wrapped package of fresh linens.
“What else? What about the bed?” I gestured around the room, like a flight attendant demonstrating how lights will illuminate the aisle in the event of an emergency.