Maya's POV
The police officer's words kept repeating in my head like a bad song I couldn't turn off.
Security cameras show Ms. Rodriguez entering the school building thirty minutes before the fire started.
I stood in the parking lot, watching them drive away with Maya in handcuffs. Lucy was crying in Emma's arms. Jake looked like someone had punched him in the stomach.
"She didn't do it," I whispered. But even as I said it, doubt crept into my mind like poison.
"Of course she didn't," Emma said firmly. "Someone set her up."
But who? And how?
My phone buzzed. Another text from that unknown number:
Tick tock, Maya. The hearing is in three days. Think they'll give Lucy back to a mother accused of arson? Sweet dreams.
I wanted to throw my phone into the snow. Instead, I showed it to Emma and Jake.
"We need to figure out who's doing this," Jake said. "Right now."
Emma nodded. "Let's go to the police station. We need to see that security footage."
We piled into Jake's truck—me, Emma, Jake, and Lucy, who wouldn't stop crying for her mommy. My heart was breaking into a million pieces.
At the station, the detective let us watch the security footage. There on the screen was someone wearing Maya's purple coat, Maya's boots, walking into the school with their head down.
"That's not her," I said immediately.
"How can you tell?" the detective asked.
"Maya walks different. She's always looking around, checking over her shoulder. This person is walking straight, like they're not afraid of anything. Maya's been scared for years. You can see it in how she moves."
The detective squinted at the screen. "You might be right. But the coat, the boots—"
"Can be bought at any store in town," Emma interrupted. "Someone copied her outfit."
"Who would do that?" Jake asked.
The answer hit me like a bucket of ice water.
"Patricia Martinez," I said. "Derek's mother."
Everyone turned to stare at me.
"Think about it," I continued, my brain working fast. "She wants Lucy. She filed for custody. What better way to prove Maya's an unfit mother than to make her look like an arsonist?"
Emma's eyes went wide. "And she has money. She could hire someone to do it."
The detective looked interested now. "Do you have any proof?"
"Not yet," I said. "But I will."
An hour later, we were back at my apartment. Lucy had finally fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from crying. Emma, Jake, and I sat at the kitchen table, trying to make a plan.
"Patricia Martinez is smart," Emma said. "She's been planning this for months, according to that lawyer Catherine."
"She knew about the fire seven years ago," Jake added. "She knew about my involvement. She's done her homework."
"And she knew Maya would be the perfect target," I said bitterly. "Maya's already scared. Already broken down by Derek. Already doubts herself."
Emma reached across and squeezed my hand. "Maya's stronger than she thinks. We just need to prove she's innocent."
My phone rang. Unknown number again.
I almost didn't answer. But something made me pick up.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice, cold and smooth like ice, spoke on the other end.
"Ms. Rodriguez? This is Patricia Martinez. Derek's mother."
My blood turned cold. "How did you get this number?"
"I have my ways, dear. I wanted to call and let you know that I don't blame you for what happened with my son. Derek has always had... issues with choosing the right kind of woman."
I gripped the phone tighter. "Your son is a monster."
"My son is in jail because of you and your friends," Patricia said, her voice still calm. "But that's fine. He'll get out eventually. Good lawyers can work miracles. In the meantime, I'll be taking care of my granddaughter."
"You'll never get Lucy."
"Won't I?" Patricia laughed softly. "Let's see. You're accused of arson. You have a history of running away. You dated a criminal in high school. You let Derek abuse you for years without leaving. And now you're influencing my granddaughter with all these unstable people around you."
"Lucy loves Maya!"
"Lucy doesn't know what's best for her. She's six years old." Patricia's voice turned sharp. "But I do. And I'm going to save her from the disaster you've made of your life."
"Maya didn't start that fire!"
"Can you prove it? Because I have security footage that says otherwise."
My mind raced. "You set her up. You paid someone to wear her clothes and—"
"Be careful with accusations, dear. Slander is illegal." Patricia's voice was mocking now. "See you in court on the 26th. Oh, and Maya? Tell your daughter I said Merry Christmas. She'll be spending next Christmas with me."
The line went dead.
I sat there shaking, the phone still pressed to my ear.
Emma and Jake were staring at me. "What did she say?" Jake asked.
I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could speak, there was a loud knock on the door.
We all jumped.
Jake moved toward the door carefully. "Who is it?"
A muffled voice answered. "Police. We need to speak with Maya Rodriguez again."
Jake looked back at me, confused. "Maya's already at the station."
The knock came again, harder this time. "Open up. This is urgent."
Something felt wrong. Very wrong.
Jake looked through the peephole and his face went white. "That's not a police uniform. That's—"
The door exploded inward.
Two men in ski masks burst into my apartment.
Emma screamed. Jake lunged forward. Lucy woke up crying.
And I saw something that made my heart stop.
One of the men was holding a gun.
The other was holding a piece of paper.
Emergency custody order for Lucy Rodriguez.
"Hand over the child," the man with the gun said. "Now."