I waited for the beep, but the connection dropped before I could speak.
I dialed a third time, holding my breath as I waited for the signal to go through.
The call went straight to voicemail again, the digital screen displaying a brief call ended notification before the screen went black.
I walked into the living room, where Lily was sitting on the edge of the sofa.
She had her knees tucked tightly together, her small hands busy twisting the hem of her grey cardigan. She did not look up when I sat down on the opposite end of the cushions.
“Lily,” I said, keeping my voice level and quiet. “Did your mom say where she was going this morning?”
Lily’s fingers worked the wool of her sweater, pulling the stitches tight. “Just to her work training.”
“Did she say what city the training was in?”
“She told me she would turn her phone off for the drive,” Lily whispered.
She kept her eyes on her shoes, her shoulders hunched as if she were trying to make herself smaller.
