Chương 4
For a moment, I heard nothing except the soft electronic pulse from the monitor beside my bed.
Owen took the phone from my hand before I dropped it.
“This is Dr. Hayes,” he said.
He listened, asked for the officer’s badge number, then wrote it on the back of an unopened gauze packet.
His voice stayed steady.
Mine had disappeared.
Priya was not a friend in the sentimental sense.
We did not meet for drinks or exchange birthday gifts.
But she had been the first person to tell me there were two heartbeats, and she had grinned when I accused her of misreading the screen.
“You’re going to need a bigger stroller,” she had said.
Now someone had forced their way into her house less than forty-eight hours after she left me a warning.
Owen ended the call.
“The police want Detective Bell notified.”
“He already left.”
“I’ll call him.”
I caught his sleeve.
“Wait.”
He looked down at my hand.
I let go immediately.
“What?”
“Priya called me before Chloe came to the house.”
“Yes.”
“She told me not to discuss the pregnancy.”
“Yes.”
“So she knew something was wrong before I was attacked.”
Owen sat beside the bed.
“That seems likely.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Not likely.”
The movement made the room tilt.
“She knew.”
Owen waited until I stopped trying to sit upright.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking Chloe knew about the twins.”
“That doesn’t tell us how.”
“Priya might.”
“If we find her.”
The words were practical, not cruel.
They still hurt.
I picked up my phone again.
There were messages I had not read.
Most were from Blake.
I scrolled past them.
His first one came at 5:11 Tuesday afternoon.
Please answer.
Then at 5:13.
Ambulance is here.
At 5:20.
I’m going to the hospital.
At 5:42.
Police won’t let me leave.
At 6:03.
Natalie please.
The rest blurred together.
I hated that some part of me still recognized the rhythm of his panic.
Three years of marriage did not vanish because he had nearly killed me.
It remained in stupid places.
The way I knew he typed faster when frightened.
The way he stopped using punctuation when ashamed.
The way he said please only when he had run out of arguments.
I set the phone down.
“I want my mother.”
Owen nodded.
“She’s been trying to see you.”
“What?”
“She arrived yesterday.”
I stared at him.
“Why hasn’t anyone told me?”
“You were asleep most of the time, and when you woke up, things moved quickly.”
“Where is she?”
“Family waiting area, I think.”
“Get her.”
He did not argue.
My mother came into the room twelve minutes later wearing yesterday’s clothes and one of my father’s old gray cardigans.
She had been a beautiful woman all her life and disliked anyone pretending not to notice.
At sixty, she still wore lipstick to the grocery store.
Now there was none.
“Natalie.”
She stopped three feet from the bed.
I had never seen my mother afraid of approaching me before.
“Hi, Mom.”
That was all it took.
Her face folded.
She covered her mouth.
I looked away because if she cried, I would.
She came closer and touched my hair.
Not my hand.
Not my shoulder.
My hair.
It was what she did when I had fevers as a child.
“I’m sorry.”
My voice cracked.
“For what?”
“I didn’t tell you.”
Her fingers stopped.
“About the babies?”
I nodded.
She inhaled sharply through her nose.
“Blake’s lawyer told us.”
Of course he had.
Even grief arrived through attorneys now.
My mother pulled the chair close.
“Your father wants to break his neck.”
“That sounds like Dad.”
“He’s downstairs because security told him if he threatens your husband one more time, they’ll remove him.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Pain followed instantly.
I pressed the blanket against my stomach.
My mother stood.
“What happened?”
“I laughed.”
“Don’t.”
“I’ll try to remember.”
Her mouth twitched.
For half a second, she looked like herself again.
Then she saw the recorder on the tray.
“What’s that?”
“Evidence.”
The word changed the air.
She sat back down.
I told her only what she needed to know.
Chloe’s voice.
The money.
The doctor.
Priya missing.
My mother did not interrupt until I finished.
Then she said, “You are not going back to that house.”
“I know.”
“You’re not going back to Blake.”
“I filed nothing yet.”
“You asked for a divorce.”
I looked at her.
“How do you know that?”
She blinked.
Then her face tightened.
“He told me.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“He called you?”
“He came to the hospital.”
I felt cold anger rise.
“What did he want?”
“To explain.”
My mother gave a bitter laugh.
“He used that word a lot.”
“What did you say?”
“That I’d rather hear an explanation from the district attorney.”
That sounded like her.
She folded her hands together.
“He looked terrible.”
I stared at her.
“So?”
“So nothing.”
Her eyes hardened.
“I’m telling you because you know I don’t lie to make people easier to hate.”
That was also like her.
My mother had once returned a necklace my father bought her because the jeweler had accidentally charged him half price.
She said dishonest advantages made her itchy.
“He cried,” she continued.
“He said Chloe lied to him.”
“He still stabbed me.”
“Yes.”
“He keeps treating manipulation like it erased his hand.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want anyone telling me he loved me deep down.”
“I won’t.”
She looked toward the window.
“He did love you.”
I flinched.
She continued before I could speak.
“And he still did this.”
I stared at her.
“That is worse, not better.”
Something inside my chest loosened painfully.
I had been afraid someone would ask me to choose between believing my marriage had contained love and believing what Blake had done.
My mother gave me permission to hold both.
May you like
It did not make either easier.
Detective Bell returned just after six.
