Chapter 1 - The Backpack Her Mother Wanted
Eight-year-old Nia Bennett folded over the dining room table so suddenly that her father thought she had slipped from her chair.
Then he heard her scream.
"Daddy! My stomach! Please, Daddy, make it stop!"
Darius Bennett dropped the glass he was holding. It hit the hardwood floor and shattered, but he barely heard it.
His daughter was gripping her abdomen with both hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Every attempt to sit upright seemed to send another wave of pain through her small body.
He knelt beside her.
"Baby, look at me. Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere," she sobbed. "It hurts so bad."
Across the table, his wife, Talia, stood with her beige handbag tucked against her hip.
She didn't move.
Darius looked up.
"Get her shoes. We're going to the hospital."
Talia pressed her lips together.
"You're overreacting. She does this when she doesn't get her way."
Darius stared at her.
Their daughter was crying so hard she could barely breathe.
"Look at her, Talia!"
"I am looking at her."
"Then how can you stand there?"
For a moment, something unfamiliar passed across his wife's expression.
Not concern.
Annoyance.
Nia reached toward him.
"Daddy, please."
That ended the conversation.
Darius grabbed the dark-blue backpack hanging from the dining chair, slipped its straps over his shoulder, and lifted his daughter into his arms.
She curled against his chest, knees drawn upward.
Talia followed them out, still carrying nothing but her beige purse.
During the drive, Nia kept apologizing.
"I'm sorry, Daddy."
"For what, sweetheart?"
"I didn't mean to make everybody upset."
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"You're sick, baby. You don't have anything to apologize for."
In the passenger seat, Talia stared straight ahead.
At the hospital, a nurse helped Nia into a wheelchair.
Darius hung the blue backpack beneath the wheelchair's left armrest and stayed behind his daughter, gripping the handles.
The nurse, whose badge read KEISHA ROWE, crouched until she was eye level with Nia.
She reached out with her right hand and gently took Nia's left hand.
"Sweetheart, squeeze my hand. Before your stomach started hurting, what happened?"
Nia glanced toward her mother.
Her entire body stiffened.
Keisha noticed.
"Nobody gets to make you stay quiet here," she said softly.
Talia stepped forward.
"Don't believe anything she says! She's been lying all morning. Are you seriously going to trust a frightened child over her own mother?"
Keisha turned her head without releasing Nia's hand.
"I'm asking my patient, ma'am. Please allow her to answer."
Talia's jaw tightened.
She looked directly at her daughter.
"You know what happens when you keep making things up, don't you?"
Nia began crying harder.
Her fingers clamped around Keisha's wrist.
"I'm not lying!"
Darius leaned forward.
"Nia?"
She looked at him through her tears.
"Daddy, I kept it. I hid it in my blue backpack because I knew Mommy would take it away."
The hallway seemed to become completely silent.
Darius looked at the backpack.
Then at his wife.
Talia's expression changed.
"Give me that bag."
Darius didn't move.
"Talia, what is she talking about?"
"She's confused. Give it to me."
Nia shook her head frantically.
"No, Daddy!"
Talia pointed at the backpack.
"I SAID GIVE IT TO ME!"
Darius reached down and lifted the backpack from the wheelchair.
His wife rushed forward.
Keisha immediately released Nia's hand and intercepted Talia before she could reach the bag.
Talia grabbed the nurse's forearm and tried to shove past her.
"Get out of my way!"
Nia screamed.
Darius pulled the backpack against his chest.
"Why are you so scared of me opening our daughter's bag?"
Talia froze.
He looked into the face of the woman he'd been married to for eleven years.
"What did you do to our little girl?"
Talia reached for the backpack again.
But Darius had already found the zipper.
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And when his fingers began to pull it open, his wife whispered something he would never forget.
"Please, Darius. Not here."
