Chapter 25
Naomi’s finger hovered over the screen for half a second before she pressed Accept.
“This is a collect call from an inmate at—” The automated voice cut off as she hit the button to accept the charges.
A beat of silence passed before a shaky voice spoke on the other end of the line. “Naomi?”
Sissy’s voice sounded raw, as if she’d been crying.
“I’m here.” Naomi moved toward the hallway, needing space for this conversation.
“My baby—” Sissy’s voice broke. “Is she okay? Please, tell me she’s okay.”
“She’s fine, Sissy. She’s . . . perfect.” Naomi glanced back toward the living room where Grace slept peacefully in her carrier. “She just had a checkup today. The doctor said she’s healthy. Gaining weight. Everything’s good.”
A sob came through the line, relief mixed with something deeper, most likely grief.
Naomi closed her eyes. She wished this were a video call. Wished she could turn the phone around and show Sissy the image of her daughter sleeping, safe, and cared for. But jail calls didn’t work that way.
“I’ve been so worried,” Sissy whispered. “Every night I just—I can’t stop thinking about her. Wondering if she’s eating. If she’s crying. If she knows I didn’t want to leave her.”
Naomi’s chest tightened. “She’s okay. I promise.”
There was a pause. Then Sissy’s voice came back. “Do you think . . . do you think you could maybe bring her to see me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I just—I need to see her. Even for a few minutes.”
Naomi froze.
A jail visit. With a newborn.
The thought sent a cold wave through her.
“I don’t know all the rules for that,” Naomi told her. “But I can look into it.”
“Please.” Sissy’s voice cracked again. “Please, Naomi. I miss her so much. I just—thank you. Thank you for doing this. For taking care of her when no one else would.”
“Of course,” Naomi said, though the words felt inadequate.
She wanted to ask more. Wanted to know what Sissy was facing, what the timeline looked like, what happened next. But she wasn’t sure how much Sissy could—or would—say over a monitored jail line.
“Any updates?” Naomi asked. “On your case?”
“I have a lawyer.” Sissy’s voice steadied slightly, like she was grasping for something solid. “A public defender. He says we’re going to fight the charges. He thinks we have a chance.”
“That’s good.” She paused before asking. “I’m surprised Richard didn’t hire anyone for you.”
He might be in prison, but his family had money.
She shook her head. “I haven’t told him I’m in jail.”
It sounded like Sissy didn’t know that Richard knew anyway.
Naomi didn’t bring it up.
“I’m going to get out soon,” Sissy continued. “I know I will. Then I can come get her. I can—”
She stopped.
Naomi wondered if Sissy really believed that or if she was just saying it because she needed to. Because the alternative was too unbearable to consider.
A mechanical voice cut through the line. “One minute remaining.”
Sissy’s breath hitched. “Naomi—Richard’s family. Do they know? About the baby?”
Naomi’s stomach dropped. “We believe they do.”
A sharp intake of breath sounded. Then Sissy was crying again—harder this time, the sound raw and panicked.
“They can’t be near her.” Sissy’s voice rose. “Do you hear me? They can’t be anywhere near my baby.”
Naomi’s pulse quickened. “Sissy—”
“They’re not good people, Naomi. You have to promise me. You have to keep them away from her.”
Naomi froze at her words. “What do you mean? Sissy, what—?”
“This call will end in ten seconds.”
“Please.” Sissy’s voice broke. “Just promise me—”
“Thank you for using—”
The line went dead.
Naomi stood in the hallway, phone still pressed to her ear, staring at the blank screen.
They’re not good people.
The words echoed in her mind, sharp and urgent, but without context. Without explanation.
What had Sissy meant? What did she know about Richard’s family that Naomi didn’t?
Micah took another bite of his sandwich and had to stop himself from making an appreciative sound.
The chicken salad really was good—perfectly seasoned, with just the right amount of crunch from celery and a hint of something he couldn’t quite place. Dill, maybe. Or tarragon.
He looked up at Ruby and nodded. “You are a great cook.”
Ruby’s face lit with a grin. “Well, thank you. It’s my grandmother’s recipe. Secret ingredients are a little bit of lemon juice and some Dijon mustard.”
“It tastes amazing.”
She looked pleased as she turned back to the counter, wrapping up the leftovers.
Micah’s mind drifted to the phone call Naomi had just told them about. To the way Naomi’s face had gone pale when she told them what Sissy said about Richard’s family.
They’re not good people.
He didn’t like the sound of that.
Right now, Naomi sat across from him, her sandwich barely touched. She stared at nothing, clearly still processing everything. He saw it in the way her fingers drummed lightly against the table, in the way her jaw stayed tight.
“Can we even take Grace to see her?” Naomi asked finally, looking up at him. “In jail, I mean. Is that allowed?”
Micah set his sandwich down and wiped his hands on a napkin.
“Technically, yes. Most facilities allow supervised visitation for minors, including infants. But it’s not simple.
You’d need approval from child services.
Karen would have to sign off on it. And the jail would have conditions—what you can bring, how long the visit can last, whether Grace can be held or just viewed through glass. ”
Naomi’s brow furrowed. “So it’s possible.”
“It’s possible.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “But I wouldn’t rush into that decision.”
Her eyes flicked to his. “Why not?”
“Because taking a newborn into a jail is—” He paused. “It’s not just about whether you can. It’s about whether you should. Grace is a week old. Jails aren’t clean. They’re loud. And depending on the facility, the experience could be . . . it could be difficult.”
“But Sissy’s her mother,” Naomi said. “I’d hate to keep Grace away from her.”
Micah understood that. Sissy might have made mistakes—serious ones—but she loved her daughter. That much was clear.
“I’m not saying don’t do it,” he said. “Just don’t decide today. Talk to Karen first. Get the details. Then make the call.”
Naomi looked down at her plate and nodded slowly.
Ruby moved back to the table, refilling Micah’s water glass without asking. “Tell me again what Sissy said about Richard’s family.”
“That they’re not good people.” Naomi’s voice was flat. “Not to let them anywhere near Grace. But the call cut off before she could explain.”
Ruby’s expression tightened. She set the pitcher down and crossed her arms. “I have no respect for that family. None. But I understand why they stood behind Richard. Blood runs deep. Loyalty like that—it’s hard to break, even when the person doesn’t deserve it.”
“I know what you’re saying. But Sissy made it sound like there was more to it. Like it wasn’t just about loyalty.” Naomi turned to Micah. “Do you know anything about them? Richard’s family?”
Micah leaned back in his chair, thinking. “Not much beyond what came up during the investigation. As you know, his mother, Linda, was vocal during the trial. Emotional. His brother, Dale, kept a lower profile, but he was there every day.”
He made a mental note to dig deeper. To pull records. To see if any of Richard’s family had been flagged for anything since the trial. It was a long shot, but Sissy’s warning had been specific. Urgent.
They’re not good people.
That wasn’t just about loyalty.
A door opened, and a moment later Caleb appeared. “Hadley’s here. She’s out at the kennel.”
Naomi stood, her face brightening for the first time since the phone call.
“I’m going to go say hi.” She looked at Micah. “You should meet her.”
Micah pushed back his chair and stood, grateful for the distraction. “Lead the way.”
“Mom, do you mind watching—?” Naomi began.
Ruby waved them off. “Go on. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Naomi smiled. “Thank you.”
Micah followed with the weight of unanswered questions sitting heavy in his chest.
But for now, he would let them sit.