Chapter 13 - The FilesMaya stared at the key.
“I've never seen that before,” she whispered.
The man looked disappointed.
“Of course you haven't. Your grandmother hid it.”
“My grandmother is dead,” Maya replied.
“That's what your mother believes.”
The entire cabin seemed to hold its breath.
I remembered the envelope in Maya's backpack, the photograph, my mother's handwriting.
Protect the baby.
They will come for him because of what his father knows.
But now the man was talking about Maya.
My daughter had visited Grandma frequently before she died. They baked cookies together, read stories, and planted flowers behind her little house.
Had my mother told Maya something without telling me?
“Maya,” I said gently, “did Grandma ever give you anything to keep safe?”
She shook her head.
Then she paused.
“There was a music box.”
My heart skipped.
“What music box?”
“The little wooden one in her bedroom. She told me never to let anyone throw it away.”
I closed my eyes.
After the funeral, my sister and I had divided our mother's belongings. The music box had gone to Maya.
It was still in our house.
The man in Row 14 looked furious.
“Where is it?”
Maya stepped behind me.
“I don't know.”
It was the first lie she'd told all morning.
I could tell because she touched the strap of her purple backpack, the same nervous habit she'd had since she was little.
The man took a step toward us.
Two passengers stood in his way. Denise shouted for him to sit down, and this time he obeyed.
But his eyes never left Maya.
The aircraft began its descent.
The captain's voice came over the speakers, reassuring passengers that emergency personnel would meet us after landing.
I held Leo close and whispered a promise into his hair.
No one would take him.
Not David.
Not the woman in Row 11.
Not the man who had followed us onto the plane.
Then Maya leaned close to my ear.
“Mom, there's something else in Grandma's music box.”
“What?”
May you like
She looked at me with frightened eyes.
“A note with your name on it.”
