Kate came back into Paige's room without Ryan.
I noticed immediately.
She had been gone long enough for the nurse to check Paige twice.
I had stayed in the chair beside the bed.
The cup of water was still in my hand.
I looked at my sister.
"Where's Ryan?"
She glanced toward the hallway.
"He's talking to someone."
I nodded.
She didn't say who.
I didn't ask.
Kate looked exhausted.
Her eyes were red.
She sat down carefully.
For a while, she watched Paige without speaking.
I wanted to ask what the investigator had said.
But I knew the conversation was private.
I didn't want my sister to feel I was interrogating her.
I had already seen how quickly a question could become an argument.
So I stayed quiet.
Kate leaned toward the bed.
She touched Paige's fingers.
The baby stirred slightly.
Then settled again.
My sister whispered,
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
I looked at her.
She had said that earlier too.
I wasn't sure whether she realized it.
I wanted to ask what she meant.
But before I could, Kate spoke again.
"Ally, I keep thinking about last week."
I sat straighter.
"The night she wouldn't settle?"
Kate nodded.
"Yes."
I waited.
She rubbed her hands together.
"I was so tired."
Her voice was quiet.
"She had been crying for hours."
I didn't interrupt.
Kate looked toward the window.
"I remember trying to feed her. She didn't want the bottle."
My stomach tightened.
That sounded painfully familiar.
Paige had refused the bottle at my house too.
I remembered warming it.
Holding it near her mouth.
Waiting for her to settle.
She hadn't.
Kate continued.
"I thought maybe her gums were hurting."
I looked down.
The same explanation again.
Teething.
I was beginning to hate that word.
Not because teething wasn't real.
Because it had become the answer everyone reached for when they didn't know what else to say.
Kate wiped her eyes.
"I put her down for a little while."
I looked up.
"In her crib?"
She nodded.
"I needed a minute."
I understood that part.
Parents became exhausted.
Sometimes they needed a moment to calm themselves.
There was nothing wrong with placing a baby safely in her crib and stepping away briefly.
But I wanted to know what happened next.
"Did she settle?"
Kate shook her head.
"No."
She looked at Paige.
"She cried again."
I waited.
Kate pressed her lips together.
"Ryan went in."
I felt my chest tighten.
"When?"
"After I'd been trying for a while."
I didn't say anything.
My sister looked toward the doorway.
Then back at me.
"He said he'd take over."
I nodded slowly.
"And did Paige settle?"
Kate hesitated.
"For a little while."
I watched her face.
She seemed to be trying to remember the order of events.
I didn't want to push too hard.
I knew memory could become confused when someone was exhausted and frightened.
But I also knew the investigator was trying to establish exactly who had been caring for Paige.
"Did you hear her crying again?"
Kate nodded.
"Yes."
"Did you go back in?"
She looked down.
"Not right away."
I waited.
She continued.
"Ryan said he had it."
The words made me pause.
I thought about Ryan sitting near the window earlier.
The way he had answered the doctor's questions.
The way he'd asked whether I'd told the investigator he was at my house.
I didn't know what any of it meant.
But I knew Kate was describing a period when Ryan had been caring for Paige without her.
That was information the investigator needed.
"Did you tell them?"
I asked.
Kate nodded.
"I told the investigator."
I felt a little relief.
"Good."
She looked at me.
"Do you think that means something?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
She looked away.
I continued carefully.
"It means they can understand who was with Paige. That's important."
Kate wiped her cheeks.
"I don't want everyone thinking Ryan did something."
I looked toward Paige.
Neither did I.
I didn't want anyone to have hurt her.
I wanted the whole thing to be an accident.
A terrible misunderstanding.
Something that could be explained.
But wishing didn't change the medical findings.
"I don't want anyone blamed without proof," I said.
"Then why does everyone keep asking about him?"
"Because he's her father. Because he was caring for her."
Kate lowered her head.
I tried to keep my voice gentle.
"They're asking about you too."
She nodded.
"I know."
I looked at the little hand resting beside Paige's blanket.
"They have to understand everything."
Kate began crying again.
I moved my chair closer.
For a moment, I placed my hand on her shoulder.
She leaned forward.
I didn't know what to say.
There was no sentence that could make this easier.
After a while, she sat upright.
"I keep wondering whether I missed something."
I looked at her.
"Like what?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
Her voice cracked.
"Something about how she was crying."
I thought about the night she'd described.
The bottle refusal.
The repeated crying.
Ryan taking over.
Paige settling briefly.
Then crying again.
I could understand why those details bothered her now.
They bothered me too.
But they weren't proof of what had caused the rib injury.
The specialist had been careful about that.
We didn't know when the rib had been hurt.
We couldn't assign it to a particular night because Paige had cried.
I reminded Kate of that.
"The doctor said they can't give an exact time from the images alone."
She nodded.
"I know."
"Then tell them what you remember. Don't guess."
She looked at me.
"That's what I did."
I believed she was trying.
At least in that moment.
I wanted to believe she would keep doing it.
A nurse came into the room.
She checked Paige's vital signs.
She adjusted the blanket.
Then she asked whether Kate wanted an update on the feeding plan.
My sister nodded.
The nurse explained what the medical team had approved and how they would monitor Paige's comfort.
I listened carefully.
It felt good to hear someone talk about an ordinary need.
Feeding.
Something simple.
Something connected to helping Paige feel better.
Kate asked whether she could hold her.
The nurse explained how Paige could be supported safely.
She helped Kate position herself.
I watched closely.
My sister was trembling.
But she followed the instructions.
Paige made a small sound when she was moved.
Kate froze.
The nurse reassured her and continued supporting the baby.
I could see how frightened Kate was of causing pain.
I understood.
I had felt exactly the same way.
Once Paige was positioned comfortably, Kate looked down at her.
Her expression softened.
For a few minutes, the investigation seemed far away.
There was only a mother holding her little girl.
I wanted that image to be the whole truth.
I wanted it to be enough.
But I knew the fractures were still there.
And the makeup still needed an explanation.
After Paige was returned to the bed, Kate sat quietly.
I looked at the diaper bag.
Then at my sister.
"Can I ask you something?"
She looked up.
"What?"
"Who packed Paige's bag Saturday morning?"
Kate frowned.
"I did."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"You packed everything?"
"I think so."
I waited.
She looked at the bag.
"Why?"
"The investigator asked about it."
Kate glanced toward the doorway.
"What did she want to know?"
"Who handled it. Whether anyone put anything inside."
Kate stared at me.
I regretted how strange the conversation sounded.
I wasn't trying to accuse her.
I was repeating a question the investigator had asked.
"Ally, it's a diaper bag."
"I know."
She shook her head.
"There's nothing unusual about it."
I looked at the bag.
I wanted to believe that too.
"Did you keep makeup in there?"
Kate hesitated.
Then she answered.
"Sometimes I put things in there if my purse is full."
I felt my heart beat faster.
"What kind of things?"
She looked annoyed.
"Keys. Lip balm. Whatever I need."
I nodded.
"Concealer?"
Kate stared at me.
"I don't remember."
I looked down.
That wasn't an answer I could interpret.
She might have forgotten.
She might never have put concealer inside.
I didn't know.
But now there was something specific the investigator could check.
I decided not to push further.
"Please tell them what you just told me."
Kate sighed.
"Fine."
She looked away.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
I wondered whether she understood why the bag mattered.
Not because a makeup product in a diaper bag would prove anything by itself.
Adults carried cosmetics all the time.
But because Paige had arrived with makeup on her injured thigh.
And no one had explained how it got there.
Every possible connection needed to be checked.
I looked at Paige.
She was resting again.
Her face looked calmer than it had that morning.
I felt grateful for the care she'd received.
But I couldn't stop thinking about her pain.
How many times had she cried during the night?
How many times had someone assumed she was hungry or tired?
How many times had she been lifted when her bones were injured?
I wanted those questions answered.
Then I reminded myself that I couldn't reconstruct events I hadn't witnessed.
The investigator could gather statements.
The doctors could interpret images.
The nurses could document symptoms.
I could only describe my own experience.
That was enough to keep me occupied.
The afternoon turned toward evening.
Kate left briefly to speak with Ryan.
I remained with Paige.
I watched the hallway through the open doorway.
People passed.
Some carrying bags.
Some speaking quietly.
Some moving quickly toward other rooms.
I wondered how many families had entered the hospital that day expecting ordinary answers.
I wondered how many had discovered something far more complicated.
I looked down at Paige.
Her little hand was open.
I touched one finger to her palm.
She curled her fingers around it.
I felt my eyes fill.
I remembered the first moment I held her after she was born.
She had been so small.
I had been afraid to move.
Everyone had laughed gently and told me I was being too careful.
Now I was glad I'd always been careful.
But care alone couldn't explain what had happened before Saturday.
I looked toward the diaper bag again.
Kate said she'd packed it.
She said she sometimes put personal things inside.
She couldn't remember whether concealer was among them.
Those details didn't tell me who had covered Paige's bruise.
But they were part of the picture the investigator was trying to build.
I decided I would mention the conversation the next time I was asked.
Not because I wanted to hurt Kate.
Because the truth mattered more than protecting anyone from an uncomfortable question.
I leaned toward Paige.
"You're doing so well, sweetheart."
She didn't open her eyes.
But her fingers stayed curled around mine.
I sat with her until Kate returned.
And I kept thinking about the night my sister had finally described.
A crying baby.
An exhausted mother.
A father taking over.
A little girl who couldn't explain why she hurt.
Those were the facts Kate had given me.
What they meant was still something the investigation had to determine.
Click here to continue reading: PART 15: The Hospital Social Worker Asked About Paige’s Safety, and I Had to Decide What I Could Honestly Promise
My Sister Left Her Six-Month-Old Daughter With Me That Saturday, and One Strange Thing She Said Kept Coming Back to Me
Part 14 of 20
