The Woman In Black

Imani's POV

The detective's words hung in the air.

Pushed.

I looked at Roy. He looked at me. Both of us frozen.

Who would push our daughter? Who would walk into our home and hurt a six-year-old?

Ingrid spoke first. Her voice was soft. Scared. "Who would want to harm a child?"

Nobody answered.

***

The police station was cold. Grey walls. Fluorescent lights that buzzed too loud.

They didn't arrest us. Just asked us to come in. Separate rooms. Separate statements.

I sat across from Detective Gerald and told him everything. I wasn't home when it happened. I came back from the blending room at the winery around twelve noon. Found Yara at the bottom of the stairs. Called my sister before 911 because I panicked. That was the truth.

He wrote it all down. Nodded. Said I could go.

Roy was still giving his statement when I left.

***

I drove back to the hospital.

The hallway outside Yara's room was too quiet. My footsteps echoed off the floor.

Then I saw Ingrid.

She was standing with a man. A tall man. White coat. Stethoscope around his neck. Doctor.

My heart stopped.

I walked faster. Almost ran. Bad news. This had to be bad news. The doctor was here to tell Ingrid something about Yara.

"Ingrid." My voice came out sharp.

She turned. "Imani. Hey. Calm down."

"What's going on? Is it Yara?"

"No. No." She put a hand on my arm. "I just came out to stretch my legs. And I ran into someone I used to know."

She looked at the doctor. He smiled.

"This is Malcolm," Ingrid said. "My ex-boyfriend. From college. He's a pediatric doctor here."

My chest slowed down. Ex-boyfriend. Not bad news. Just Ingrid's past.

I looked at him properly for the first time.

Kind eyes. Tall, like he was used to bending down to hear people. Handsome in a way that wasn't trying too hard.

"When exactly did you date him?" I asked Ingrid.

She shrugged. "Freshman year. A long time ago."

Freshman year.

Malcolm from freshman year.

Yara.

My stomach turned over.

I didn't say anything. Couldn't. But my hand moved before my brain caught up.

I grabbed his fingers. Held tight.

"Please." My voice cracked. "Please make sure you save my daughter. Please."

He blinked. Looked at my hand. Then at my face.

"Mrs. Reginald, we have a whole team of paediatricians. Everyone is doing their best. You don't need to worry."

"No." I shook my head. Squeezed harder. "No. It has to be you. You. Promise me. Promise me you'll save her."

Ingrid stepped in. Tried to pull my hand away.

"Imani. Stop. This isn't appropriate."

I didn't let go.

"Imani." Ingrid's voice got louder. "Why are you acting strange?"

Malcolm gently pulled his hand back. Polite. "I should go check on my patients."

He walked away.

I watched him go. Every step. Until he turned the corner and disappeared.

Something happened at that moment. I don't know what. But my heart was telling me something my mouth couldn't say.

***

Yara looked so small.

The white hospital bed swallowed her. Bandages wrapped around her head. Tubes connected to her arm. Machines beeped slow and steady.

I sat beside her. Took her hand. Her fingers were cold.

I prayed. Quiet. Desperate. The kind of prayer you only pray when there's nothing left to do.

Please. Please let her wake up. Please don't take her from me.

Ingrid stood behind me. Her hand on my shoulder.

"She's going to be fine," Ingrid said. "Yara is not going anywhere."

I didn't answer.

***

Evening came.

Roy went home. Ingrid stayed with Yara. I went back to the police station.

The drive felt longer than before.

I needed answers. Someone pushed my daughter. Someone hurt my baby. And I needed to know who.

Detective Gerald was at his desk. He looked up when I walked in. Not surprised to see me.

"Mrs. Reginald. Have a seat."

I sat.

"I need to know what happened. What you found."

He pulled out a file. Opened it. Ran his finger down a page.

"According to your statement, your daughter missed a step and fell down the staircase."

I stared at him.

"What?"

He looked up. "That's what you said. Missed a step. Accident."

"No." I shook my head. "I never said that. I said I came home and found her at the bottom of the stairs. You're the one who told me she was pushed."

He frowned. Turned the file toward me.

"Read it yourself."

I looked down.

My handwriting. My signature at the bottom.

Yara Reginald missed a step and fell down the staircase. No sign of forced entry. No witnesses.

"That's not what I said." My voice was shaking now. "I never wrote that. I never—"

"You signed it, ma'am."

"Because I trusted you! I thought you wrote down what I told you!"

Detective Gerald leaned back. Folded his arms. "You gave your statement. You signed it. There's no evidence of foul play."

I stood up. Chair scraping against the floor.

"Something is wrong here. Something is very wrong."

He didn't say anything.

I took a long breath. Tried to calm down. Tried to make him understand.

"Listen to me. At the hospital yesterday, I never said I was home when she got hurt. I told you I came back from the winery and found her on the floor. YOU told ME she was pushed. Now you're telling me it was an accident? Which is it? What is going on?"

He closed the file.

"Mrs. Reginald, you're upset. I understand. But the evidence is clear. Your daughter fell."

My hands were fists now.

"Someone was at my gate yesterday afternoon. A woman. Dressed in black. She covered her face when she saw me. And the front door was unlocked when I came home. I never leave the door unlocked."

Detective Gerald wrote something down. Slow. Like he didn't believe me.

"A woman in black."

"Yes."

"At your gate."

"Yes."

He put his pen down. Looked at me like I was a child telling a ghost story.

"We'll look into it."

He wouldn't. I could see it in his eyes.