Chapter 4: The Man Who Sent a Bunny
I had not spoken to Marco Reyes in fourteen months.
Our divorce had been quiet in the way that exhausted things are quiet — not peaceful, just emptied out.
He had not contested custody.
He had not asked for a schedule.
He had signed the agreement his attorney put in front of him and moved to Phoenix three weeks later.
Sophia asked about him sometimes.
Not often.
She had stopped expecting him to call on her birthday after the second year.
The stuffed bunny had surprised me.
I had held it in my hands before giving it to her, turning it over, trying to read something into it.
An apology, maybe.
Or just a man who remembered, once, that he had a daughter.
I had given Sophia the benefit of the doubt.
I had let her love that bunny without complicating it.
Now I sat across from Patricia in her office again, and I told her what Lauren had said.
Patricia did not react visibly.
She picked up her pen.
"How often was Teresa watching Sophia?" she asked.
"Two afternoons a week.
Sometimes a Saturday morning if I had an early client call."
"And during that time, she had unsupervised access to Sophia and to your home."
"Yes."
"Did Teresa have Marco's current contact information?"
"I never gave it to her.
But Lauren might have.
Or she could have found it herself."
Patricia wrote something down.
"I want you to think carefully.
In the last six months, has Marco made any contact with you — directly or through an attorney — about modifying the custody arrangement?"
I thought about it.
"No.
Nothing formal.
He texted twice in the spring.
Once to ask how Sophia was doing.
Once to say he might be in Austin for work and could maybe see her.
He never followed through."
"Did he follow through?"
"No."
"Did Teresa know about those texts?"
I paused.
"I mentioned the first one to her.
I was — I think I was hoping she'd be pleased.
That he was showing some interest."
Patricia set her pen down.
"Gabriela, I need you to consider the possibility that Teresa has been more active in this than you realize.
Keeping Marco informed about Sophia's life.
Keeping him adjacent.
Possibly encouraging him to stay connected."
"Why would she do that?"
"Because if Marco files for increased custody — or even just makes a formal request — it creates leverage.
It creates a situation where you are suddenly managing a custody dispute at the same time you're managing a protective order against your own mother." She paused.
"It divides your attention.
It divides your resources."
The room felt very quiet.
"You think she planned this," I said.
"I think the 911 call was impulsive.
I think the months before it were not."
I drove home slowly.
Sophia was at a neighbor's house — my friend Dana had taken her for the afternoon without asking why, just offering, the way Dana always did.
I had three hours before I needed to pick her up.
I sat at the kitchen counter and opened the call log from the second app.
Fourteen weeks of records.
Incoming calls to my landline — a number I kept only because the house security system was tied to it.
I scrolled back to March.
There were six calls from a Phoenix area code I didn't recognize.
I had never answered them.
I had assumed they were spam.
I took a screenshot and sent it to Patricia.
Her response came back in eleven minutes.
*That area code is registered to a law office in Scottsdale.
I'll have my paralegal run it this afternoon.*
I set the phone face-down on the counter.
Teresa had not been keeping Marco informed about Sophia.
She had been keeping Marco's attorney informed about me.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Lauren.
*Mom wants to meet.
She says she just wants to talk.
No lawyers.
She says she has something to tell you that changes everything.*
I read it twice.
Then I typed back: *Tell her to put it in writing and send it to Patricia Okafor.*
Three minutes passed.
Lauren's reply was a single line.
May you like
*She says it's about the night Dad left.
She says you don't know the real reason.*
