Kate spoke with the investigator that afternoon.
I didn't go into the room with her.
She needed to tell the story without me sitting beside her.
I waited near Paige's bed.
The nurse had helped make her comfortable.
Her little face was turned toward the window.
I watched her breathing.
Every now and then, she moved her right foot beneath the blanket.
I was still getting used to seeing her move without hearing that terrible scream.
The treatment was helping.
I was grateful for that.
But I knew relief from pain wasn't the same as recovery.
The fractures would need time.
And Paige would need protection while the adults determined how she'd been injured.
I looked at the diaper bag beside the chair.
The investigator had asked about it more than once.
Kate had admitted she sometimes carried her cosmetics inside.
But she hadn't remembered whether she'd packed concealer on Saturday.
I hadn't touched the bag since the investigators began asking questions about it.
The zipper remained closed.
The strap lay folded against the side.
I kept thinking about the way Kate had handed it to me.
So casually.
As if it were just another part of an ordinary Saturday.
I remembered taking it while she explained that Paige was teething.
I hadn't looked inside.
There had been no reason.
Now I wondered whether something in that bag could help explain the beige coating.
I didn't try to find out myself.
The hospital had documented what was on Paige's thigh.
The investigator knew about the bag.
I didn't want to disturb anything that might matter.
The nurse came in with an update about Paige's care.
I listened carefully.
The doctors were pleased that her pain appeared better controlled.
They would continue monitoring her.
I asked what I should watch for if I helped care for her later.
The nurse explained that the treating team would provide specific instructions before discharge.
I nodded.
I wanted to learn everything properly.
I had already been frightened enough by one ordinary adjustment of my hand.
I didn't want to make mistakes with a healing fracture.
After the nurse left, I sat down.
I thought about the social worker's questions.
Could I help if Paige needed a temporary place to stay?
Was my home suitable?
Would I follow medical instructions?
Did I understand that any arrangement required approval?
I'd answered yes to the things I could promise.
And I had admitted what I didn't know.
I still didn't know whether Paige would come home with me.
I didn't know whether Kate and Ryan would be allowed to take her home together.
I knew only that a decision would have to be made before discharge.
I rubbed my hands together.
The hospital air felt cold.
I wished I'd brought another sweater.
Then I looked at Paige.
She was warm beneath her blanket.
Someone had made sure of that.
I thought about how much care a baby needed.
Small things.
Things adults sometimes took for granted.
A supported leg.
A clean diaper.
A comfortable position.
A familiar voice.
It seemed unfair that Paige had to depend on other people to understand all of those needs.
But that was what being six months old meant.
She couldn't protect herself.
She couldn't explain what had been done to her.
And she couldn't decide whom to trust.
After a while, the investigator returned.
Kate followed her.
My sister's eyes were red.
She looked at me.
"I told her."
I nodded.
"Okay."
That was all I said.
I wasn't going to ask her to repeat everything.
The investigator asked whether she could speak with me briefly.
I agreed.
We moved a short distance away from Paige's bed.
She opened her notebook.
"I understand your sister spoke with you about an evening when Ryan was caring for Paige."
"Yes."
She asked me to describe our conversation.
I told her what Kate had said.
That Paige had been crying for hours.
That Kate was exhausted.
That Ryan had become frustrated.
That he told her to put Paige down and let him take over.
I explained that Kate had stepped away.
That Paige settled briefly.
Then began crying again.
The investigator wrote carefully.
"Did you witness any of those events?"
"No."
"Did your sister say she witnessed Ryan injure Paige?"
"No."
I was glad the investigator asked that question.
I wanted the distinction to remain clear.
Kate had described Ryan being frustrated.
She hadn't described seeing him strike, shake, drop, or otherwise injure Paige.
I couldn't turn one statement into another.
The investigator asked whether Kate had told me anything about the makeup.
I explained our conversation about the diaper bag.
"She said she sometimes puts personal things inside."
"What things?"
"Keys. Lip balm. She said she might have put concealer in there."
"Did she say she used concealer on Paige?"
"No."
"Did she identify a particular product?"
"No."
The investigator nodded.
I looked toward the room.
I could see Paige's bed through the doorway.
I wanted to return to her.
But I knew these questions mattered.
Then the investigator asked about the wipe I'd left at my house.
She confirmed where I'd described leaving it.
I repeated that it had been used once.
Only on a small section of the coating.
I explained that the rest had remained on Paige when I brought her to the hospital.
She asked whether anyone had entered my house afterward.
I told her what I knew.
I hadn't gone home.
I hadn't asked anyone to clean the changing table.
I hadn't moved the wipe.
The investigator explained that investigators could consider the available items and documentation as part of their work.
She didn't tell me anything had been tested.
She didn't claim to have identified the substance.
I appreciated that.
I was beginning to understand how slowly reliable answers sometimes came.
I returned to Paige's room.
Kate was sitting beside her.
Ryan wasn't there.
I looked toward the doorway.
"Where is he?"
Kate rubbed her forehead.
"He went outside."
I sat down.
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Kate said something I hadn't expected.
"He asked me why I told them he was frustrated."
I looked at her.
"Ryan?"
She nodded.
"He said I made him sound terrible."
I didn't know what to say.
Kate stared at Paige.
"I told him I was just explaining what happened."
I leaned forward.
"That's what you should do."
She looked at me.
"He said everyone gets frustrated with a crying baby."
"People do."
I waited.
"But being frustrated doesn't explain a broken leg."
Kate looked down.
"I know."
I thought about what the investigator had said.
No conclusion yet.
The medical team had documented injuries.
They were reviewing the timeline.
The cosmetic substance was still unexplained.
I wasn't going to accuse Ryan because he was upset about being questioned.
But I also wasn't going to tell Kate to stop speaking honestly because he disliked what she said.
"Keep telling them what you remember," I said.
She nodded.
"I will."
A little later, Ryan returned.
He looked at Kate.
Then at me.
Neither of us spoke.
He sat in the chair near the window.
I tried to concentrate on Paige.
But I could feel the tension in the room.
Ryan finally spoke.
"Everybody keeps acting like I did something."
I looked up.
"The doctors haven't said who caused the injuries."
He stared at me.
"Then why are they asking about me?"
"Because you cared for Paige."
His expression hardened.
"So did Kate."
"I know."
"So did you."
I felt my chest tighten.
"Yes."
I looked directly at him.
"And I've told them exactly what happened while she was with me."
Ryan looked away.
I didn't raise my voice.
I didn't want another argument near Paige.
The conversation ended there.
But the tension remained.
The following morning, I learned that the investigators had begun reviewing additional information about the items that accompanied Paige.
The investigator didn't discuss details that weren't mine to know.
She did ask whether I could identify the diaper bag I'd carried to the hospital.
I said yes.
She confirmed that it was the one Kate had handed me.
I explained again that I hadn't packed it.
I didn't know its complete contents.
The investigator asked whether I recognized any cosmetic products belonging to Kate.
I told her I might recognize something I'd seen before, but I couldn't reliably identify a product simply from its appearance.
She accepted that.
I was relieved.
I didn't want to become so desperate for answers that I began claiming things I couldn't prove.
Later, the investigator spoke with Kate and Ryan about the bag.
I wasn't present for the entire conversation.
But afterward, Kate returned looking shaken.
She sat beside me.
For a moment, she stared at the floor.
Then she said,
"There was concealer in the bag."
I looked at her.
"Did you know it was there?"
She shook her head.
"Not until they showed it to me."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What did they say?"
Kate wiped her face.
"That they found a makeup product among Paige's things."
I waited.
She looked toward her daughter.
"I recognized it."
My hands went cold.
"Was it yours?"
Kate nodded.
"Yes."
I didn't speak.
I had spent days wondering whether there was a connection between the bag and the makeup on Paige's thigh.
Now Kate was telling me the bag contained one of her concealers.
That didn't prove it was the substance used on Paige.
It didn't prove who had handled it.
But it was a detail the investigator needed to establish.
"Did you tell them it was yours?"
"Yes."
I nodded.
Kate looked at me.
"I didn't put it on her."
I held her gaze.
"I didn't see anyone do it."
Her eyes filled.
"Ally, please believe me."
I felt an ache in my chest.
I wanted to tell her I believed every word.
I wanted to make her fear disappear.
But I couldn't verify what she'd done while I wasn't there.
I could only tell her what I knew.
"I didn't see you put makeup on Paige," I said.
"And I told them that."
Kate covered her face.
I moved closer.
I wanted to comfort her.
But I was also frightened by the discovery.
A cosmetic product belonging to Kate had been in the bag.
A beige substance had covered Paige's bruise.
The two things might be connected.
I couldn't pretend otherwise.
I thought about the morning change.
Kate said she'd dressed Paige.
She said she hadn't noticed a bruise.
She said she'd never applied cosmetics to her leg.
Ryan had denied applying anything too.
The investigator would need to decide what those statements meant alongside the evidence.
I couldn't do it for her.
A nurse came in.
She checked Paige's leg.
She asked whether Kate needed anything.
My sister shook her head.
I looked toward the little girl on the bed.
She was resting.
She didn't know adults were discussing makeup and timelines.
She didn't know people were questioning one another.
She only knew whether she was comfortable.
Whether she was hungry.
Whether someone was close.
I wanted to keep her world that simple.
At least while she healed.
When Kate stepped into the hallway, I remained beside Paige.
I looked at the diaper bag's usual place beside the chair.
It wasn't there anymore.
I understood it had become part of the review.
The empty space felt strange.
For days, I'd been looking at that bag and wondering whether it held a clue.
Now an investigator had found a cosmetic product inside.
But the larger questions remained.
Who applied anything to Paige's thigh?
When?
Why?
And how had she suffered two bone injuries without anyone giving the doctors an adequate explanation?
I looked at my niece.
I remembered the gentle wipe.
The beige mark left behind.
The purple bruise underneath.
I wished finding the concealer could answer everything.
It couldn't.
Not yet.
The next conversation would have to be based on more than suspicion.
And until it was, I wanted Paige nowhere except somewhere the medical team and safety professionals considered safe.
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: Ryan Finally Answered Questions About the Makeup, and the Hospital Made a Decision About Where Paige Could Recover
My Sister Left Her Six-Month-Old Daughter With Me That Saturday, and One Strange Thing She Said Kept Coming Back to Me
Part 18 of 20
