Chương 4
Nathan’s brow tightened.
Rachel looked toward the stairs.
“Your mother printed a picture of Sophie sleeping in our nursery.”
Nathan stood.
“She takes pictures of Sophie all the time.”
“From the doorway?”
He looked at the photo again.
Rachel said, “Why was it in her dress pocket?”
“You don’t know that it was.”
“It fell exactly where she was standing.”
Nathan did not answer.
That silence did something unpleasant to Rachel’s stomach.
“Check the camera.”
“The nursery camera?”
“We don’t record the nursery.”
“I know.”
“Then what am I checking?”
“The front hall.”
Nathan understood.
They sat at the kitchen island with his phone between them.
He opened the security application.
The living-room camera showed only one approach to the stairs, but the hall camera captured everyone entering and leaving through the front door.
They searched the past two weeks.
Eleanor appeared often.
That was not surprising. She had been staying in their guest suite since her condominium renovation began six weeks earlier.
Nathan skipped through long sections.
Rachel stopped him.
“There.”
Wednesday. 2:14 p.m.
Eleanor came downstairs carrying something white.
The image was small.
Nathan enlarged it.
A portable photo printer.
Rachel stared.
Nathan said, “Mom has one of those.”
“I know.”
Eleanor had brought it for the birthday dinner because she liked giving guests printed photographs instead of texting them.
Rachel took the phone.
She moved backward through the footage.
At 1:52, Eleanor went upstairs carrying the printer.
At 2:14, she returned with it.
Rachel felt a coldness settle beneath her ribs.
“I was at the grocery store.”
Nathan checked the date.
“I was downtown.”
Neither said anything.
The photograph itself proved very little.
Eleanor lived in the house at the time. She had gone into the nursery before. She loved her granddaughter.
None of that explained why the picture had been in her hand when she told Rachel to leave without Sophie.
Nathan placed the photograph on the counter.
“I’ll ask her.”
Rachel laughed quietly.
“What?”
“You think she’s going to tell you?”
“I have to ask.”
“Why?”
“Because there might be an explanation.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
Rachel stood.
“The thing you always do.”
Nathan looked genuinely confused.
“What thing?”
“You need there to be a reasonable explanation for your mother.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I know it’s not fair. Neither was tonight.”
“I just threw her out of my house.”
“And you’re already working your way back to maybe she had a reason.”
“I’m working my way toward facts.”
Rachel’s eyes burned.
“You saw the video.”
“Yes.”
“You heard her.”
“Yes.”
“You watched her dump my bag out.”
“Yes.”
“And you still need another fact?”
Nathan stood too.
“I need to understand what she was doing.”
“I don’t.”
“Rachel—”
“I understand perfectly. She thought she could scare me into leaving my child with her.”
“She can’t.”
“She did.”
“No, she tried.”
“You weren’t here.”
The sentence stopped him.
Rachel could hear her own breathing.
She lowered her voice so she would not wake Sophie.
“You came in at the perfect moment, Nathan. Great. You saw it. You believed me. You made her leave.”
He said nothing.
“But I need you to understand something. Before you opened that door, I didn’t know if you would.”
His face changed.
Rachel hated the pain there because some part of her wanted it.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because she said you agreed.”
“You believed her?”
“For maybe three seconds.”
Nathan recoiled slightly.
Rachel continued.
“And those three seconds were enough.”
He sat again.
She had never seen him look quite like that.
Not angry.
Not defensive.
Stripped.
Rachel shifted Sophie higher.
“What did you tell her about me?”
Nathan did not answer immediately.
There it was.
Not evidence.
Not a confession.
Just the pause.
Rachel closed her eyes.
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her I was worried.”
“When?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“How worried?”
“Rachel.”
“Say it.”
He looked at the counter.
“You weren’t sleeping.”
“I’m still not sleeping.”
“You were crying in the laundry room at two in the morning.”
She stared.
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you come in?”
“I thought you wanted to be alone.”
“You told your mother instead?”
“No. Not that night.”
“But eventually.”
“Yes.”
Sophie stirred.
Rachel walked toward the living room.
Nathan followed.
She stopped.
“Please don’t.”
He remained in the kitchen.
Rachel sat on the couch and fed Sophie the bottle that had rolled beneath the table.
The milk was still cool enough.
Sophie drank with astonishing concentration.
Rachel stared at the baby’s tiny ear.
Nathan stayed where he was.
After several minutes he said, “I told my mother I thought we needed more help.”
Rachel did not turn.
“She said she could stay for a while.”
“That’s why she moved in.”
“Partly.”
“You told me it was because her condo was being renovated.”
“It was.”
“Partly.”
Nathan swallowed.
“I thought having her here might help.”
Rachel laughed softly.
Sophie stopped drinking.
Rachel waited until the baby resumed.
“You brought the person who makes me most anxious into our house because you were worried I was anxious.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds insane.”
“How should I say it?”
“I don’t know.”
Rachel looked at him then.
He was leaning against the kitchen counter, shirt collar open, birthday dinner still on the table behind him.
He suddenly looked thirty-four rather than like the calm, competent man everybody called when something broke.
“What else?”
Nathan rubbed the back of his neck.
“My mother asked whether I thought you needed time away.”
Rachel went still.
“What did you say?”
“I said maybe you needed sleep. Like a night. Maybe two. A hotel, your sister’s, whatever you wanted.”
“With Sophie?”
“I didn’t get that far.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I assumed Sophie would be with you if you wanted her with you.”
“If I wanted her with me.”
“Rachel, come on.”
May you like
“No. Keep going.”
“I told Mom I didn’t know how much longer you could keep doing everything the way you were doing it.”
