By the time the investigator returned, I had stopped trying to count the hours.
Everything seemed to happen between medical checks.
Someone came to examine Paige.
Someone asked a question.
Someone wrote something down.
Then we waited again.
I had never understood how exhausting waiting could be.
Not when the person you were waiting for was a six-month-old baby in a hospital bed.
I was sitting beside Paige when a nurse approached.
She told me the investigator wanted to speak with me again.
I looked toward the diaper bag.
I had a feeling I knew what she would ask about.
The bag had been sitting near my chair since we arrived.
It looked exactly as it had that morning.
Same shape.
Same strap.
Same ordinary appearance.
I had carried it without thinking.
Now it seemed like one of the few objects that connected Kate's house to mine and then to the hospital.
I asked whether Paige would be all right while I stepped away.
The nurse assured me that she was being cared for.
I nodded.
Kate was sitting nearby.
Ryan had returned.
I didn't say much as I left.
The investigator met me in the quieter room where we'd spoken before.
She had the same notebook.
She seemed just as calm.
She asked how Paige was doing.
I told her the doctors were still examining her.
I explained that they'd found a fracture in her left leg and were concerned about another finding on the additional X-rays.
The investigator nodded.
Then she asked about the diaper bag.
"Did your sister pack it that morning?"
I thought carefully.
"I don't know when it was packed."
"Who handed it to you?"
"Kate."
"Did you see Ryan touch it?"
"No."
"Did you see anyone put anything inside?"
"No."
I looked down.
I wished I had paid more attention.
But why would I have?
It had been a normal babysitting arrangement.
Kate had brought a bag with Paige's things.
I had accepted it.
I hadn't expected to reconstruct every movement afterward.
The investigator asked whether I had used anything from the bag before discovering the bruise.
I told her I'd prepared a bottle.
She asked where the bottle came from.
I described what I remembered.
Then she asked about the baby wipe.
I explained that it was a clean wipe I used while checking Paige.
She asked whether I'd kept it.
I hesitated.
I remembered placing it aside after seeing the makeup come away.
Then I had been focused on getting Paige to the hospital.
"I left it at my house."
The investigator looked up.
"Do you remember where?"
"Near the changing table."
She made a note.
I felt a sudden rush of guilt.
I hadn't thought about preserving anything.
I had thought about the baby.
Only the baby.
I asked whether I should have brought the wipe.
The investigator told me not to blame myself for seeking medical care.
She asked me to describe exactly where I'd left it.
I did.
I explained that I hadn't used it again.
I hadn't cleaned the rest of Paige's thigh.
I hadn't tried to remove the makeup.
I had simply stopped.
Then I'd wrapped Paige carefully and taken her to the emergency room.
The investigator wrote everything down.
I watched her pen move.
I kept thinking about that little wipe.
The beige color on the white material.
It had seemed so important when I first saw it.
Then the bruise underneath had frightened me enough that I forgot almost everything else.
The investigator asked whether I had a photograph of the area.
I said no.
She nodded.
"The hospital has documented what was observed."
I felt relieved again.
At least the doctors had seen the remaining coating.
At least I wasn't the only person who knew it existed.
Then she asked about Kate's cosmetics.
I looked at her.
"What about them?"
"Do you know whether your sister keeps makeup in Paige's diaper bag?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
"Have you ever seen her use concealer on the baby?"
"No."
"Have you ever seen anyone put makeup on Paige?"
"No."
She wrote that down.
I felt sick hearing the questions aloud.
It was such a strange thing to be discussing.
Makeup on a baby's injured thigh.
I wished the words belonged to some other situation.
Some misunderstanding.
Something harmless.
But the bruise was real.
And the fracture was real.
The investigator asked whether Kate usually carried cosmetics with her.
I thought about my sister.
She sometimes wore makeup.
She might keep items in her purse.
But I didn't know what she carried every day.
"I can't tell you exactly what she keeps with her."
The investigator nodded.
"That's fine."
She asked whether I'd noticed any unusual smell coming from the diaper bag.
I thought about it.
"No. The smell came when I opened Paige's clothes near her thigh."
"Are you certain?"
"That's when I noticed it."
I didn't want to say I was certain about something I hadn't been paying attention to before.
The investigator accepted the distinction.
She asked whether I'd touched the beige coating with my fingers.
"No."
"Did you smell the wipe afterward?"
"No. I noticed the floral smell before I wiped her."
She wrote that down too.
Then she asked whether I'd ever seen a similar cosmetic color on Kate.
I hesitated.
"I don't know."
It seemed possible.
But I couldn't identify the product.
I wasn't a cosmetics expert.
And I didn't want to accuse my sister based on a shade of beige.
The investigator appeared satisfied with that answer.
She explained that the hospital staff were documenting Paige's injuries and that other information might be reviewed as the investigation continued.
I nodded.
I tried to understand what she was telling me without jumping ahead.
She wasn't saying they'd found the person responsible.
She wasn't saying the diaper bag proved anything.
She was simply gathering information.
Still, I couldn't stop looking at the bag differently.
It had moved with Paige from one home to another.
I remembered Kate lifting it onto her shoulder.
I remembered taking it from her.
I remembered carrying it into the hospital.
It was an ordinary object.
But the day had made ordinary objects feel important.
The investigator asked whether Kate had told me who cared for Paige the night before.
"She said she and Ryan were both home."
"Did she say anyone else was there?"
"No."
"Do you know whether anyone visited?"
"No."
"Do you know whether Paige was ever alone with Ryan?"
I paused.
I knew he was her father.
Of course he cared for her.
But I didn't know the exact routine from the night before.
"I don't know what happened overnight."
The investigator nodded.
Then she asked whether I'd ever witnessed Ryan handle Paige roughly.
I thought carefully.
"No."
"Have you ever seen Kate do that?"
"No."
"Have you ever been concerned about either of them caring for her?"
I looked down.
Before that Saturday, I hadn't imagined a situation like this.
Kate was my sister.
Ryan was Paige's father.
They were the people I expected to protect her.
"I hadn't seen anything like this before."
The investigator waited.
I continued.
"I can't tell you what happened when I wasn't there."
She nodded.
"That's important."
I appreciated that she didn't ask me to turn my fear into a story.
I was already frightened of what the medical findings might mean.
I didn't need to invent anything worse.
After a while, she asked whether I had anything else to add.
I remembered the morning phone call.
The way Kate asked why I'd taken Paige to the hospital.
The way she kept returning to teething.
I described it again.
Then I mentioned Kate's later statement that Paige had cried when she was picked up the night before.
The investigator looked up.
"When did you hear that?"
"At the hospital, when the doctor was asking about the night."
"Did your sister tell you that at the drop-off?"
"No."
"Did she explain why Paige cried when moved?"
"No."
She wrote the information down.
I watched her for a moment.
Then I asked something that had been bothering me.
"Do you think Kate knew about the fracture?"
The investigator looked at me.
"We're still gathering information."
I nodded.
I had expected that answer.
But I needed to ask.
I wanted someone to tell me what my sister knew.
I wanted someone to explain why no one had mentioned the pain.
I wanted the uncertainty to stop.
Instead, the investigator asked,
"What do you know personally?"
I looked down at my hands.
"She didn't tell me Paige was injured."
"Anything else?"
"She said the baby was teething."
I swallowed.
"And I found bruising under makeup."
The investigator nodded.
"Those are the details you can speak to."
I knew she was right.
I couldn't testify to someone's thoughts.
I couldn't explain choices I hadn't witnessed.
I could only describe what had happened in front of me.
That was beginning to feel both important and terribly limited.
When the conversation ended, I returned to Paige's room.
Kate wasn't there.
Ryan was sitting near the window.
The nurse was checking Paige.
I moved to the other side of the bed.
Ryan looked up.
"Where were you?"
"Speaking with the investigator."
His expression tightened.
"What did she ask?"
I looked at him.
"About the morning. About the diaper bag. About who was with Paige before she came to my house."
He leaned back.
"Did you tell her I was there?"
I felt my stomach tighten.
I hadn't expected that question.
"Yes. You were in the car."
Ryan looked toward Paige.
He didn't answer.
I waited.
Then I said,
"I told her what happened."
He nodded once.
I couldn't tell whether he was upset about being questioned or simply frightened.
I reminded myself not to assume.
The nurse finished checking Paige.
She told us to let her know if we needed anything.
Then she left.
Ryan remained quiet.
I sat beside Paige.
I didn't want another argument.
But I couldn't ignore how strange everything had become.
That morning, Ryan had waited in the car while Kate brought me the baby.
Now an investigator was asking about who had access to Paige before she entered my house.
And Ryan was asking what I'd told her.
I looked at Paige.
Her little face was peaceful for the moment.
I wished the whole day could have been as simple as sitting beside her while she slept.
But the doctors were still evaluating her injuries.
The investigator was still gathering information.
And the diaper bag remained near the chair.
I glanced at it.
I wondered whether anything inside could help explain the makeup.
Then I looked away.
I didn't open it.
I didn't move anything.
I had answered the questions I could.
I wanted the rest handled carefully.
A few minutes later, Kate returned.
She looked tired.
She asked whether Paige had woken.
I told her no.
She sat beside the bed.
For a little while, we were simply two sisters watching a baby rest.
I wanted to hold on to that moment.
But I knew the questions weren't going away.
The bruise had been covered.
The fracture hadn't been explained.
The doctors were concerned about another bone.
And none of us could return to the ordinary morning we'd expected.
I touched Paige's hand.
I remembered the investigator's question.
What did I know personally?
I knew my niece had been in pain.
I knew I had found her injury.
I knew the hospital had confirmed a fracture.
And I knew that someone had applied makeup to an area that was bruised and swollen.
Everything else still needed an answer.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: I Learned Why the Hospital Couldn’t Send Paige Home Yet, and My Sister Finally Began Talking About the Hours Before She Dropped Her Off
My Sister Left Her Six-Month-Old Daughter With Me That Saturday, and One Strange Thing She Said Kept Coming Back to Me
Part 11 of 20
