Chương 10
Morales explained.
For thirty seconds, the room became a place where a ten-year-old asked what a phrase meant.
Emily held onto that tiny ordinary moment with both hands.
A nurse returned with apple juice and crackers for Noah.
He tore open the packet and ate one cracker in three bites.
Then he offered Emily the second.
She shook her head.
“You need it.”
“So do you.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That’s what Dad said.”
The room went still.
Noah stared at the cracker.
Emily looked at Morales.
The detective was already reaching for his notebook again.
He stopped himself.
“Do you remember Daniel saying that exact thing?”
Noah nodded.
“At dinner.”
Emily felt the memory align.
Daniel cutting the chicken.
Moving food around his plate.
Saying he was not hungry.
Drinking nothing.
Making coffee later from a mug he took directly from the cabinet.
Noah looked frightened by the attention suddenly focused on him.
Emily squeezed his finger.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Morales asked one question.
“Did he make the coffee before or after you started feeling sleepy?”
Noah frowned.
“After Mom sat down on the floor.”
Emily looked at him sharply.
“I sat down?”
“You said you were dizzy.”
“I thought I fell.”
“You kind of did.”
Noah demonstrated badly with one hand.
“You held the counter, then you sat, then you laid down.”
Emily searched for the memory.
There was a gap where details should have been.
She remembered the sink.
Daniel’s voice.
The cool cabinet handle against her palm.
Then tile.
Morales wrote something.
“You’re sure about the coffee?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He spilled sugar.”
Emily blinked.
Daniel never used sugar.
“What?”
Noah looked at her.
“He spilled the little packets.”
“We don’t have sugar packets.”
Noah frowned harder.
“The yellow things.”
“Sweetener?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel hated artificial sweetener too.
He called it chemical garbage whenever Emily used it.
Morales saw something in her face.
“What is it?”
“He drinks coffee black.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
Morales nodded slowly.
“Could he have been using the mug for something else?”
Emily thought about the coffee smell on Daniel’s breath while his hand was around her throat.
“No.”
The certainty surprised her.
“He was drinking coffee.”
Morales wrote again.
The doctor returned before the conversation could continue.
Dr. Patel told Emily that preliminary imaging did not show an acute fracture or major vascular injury, but the soft-tissue swelling around her neck still required observation.
Emily would not be going home tonight.
Relief and panic arrived together.
“Where do we go?”
“We’ll keep you here for now.”
“And Noah?”
“We’re evaluating him separately, but he can remain nearby as much as possible.”
Emily looked at Morales.
“My house is a crime scene.”
“For now.”
“My keys are there.”
“Yes.”
“My wallet.”
“We can arrange access later.”
“My clothes.”
“Later.”
Each answer closed another door.
Emily rubbed her forehead.
She had left the house with nothing but the sweater now lying in a hospital chair.
No purse.
No charger.
No toothbrush.
No shoes except the ones on her feet.
Her entire life seemed to have become evidence.
Dr. Patel asked whether Emily had somewhere safe to stay after discharge.
Emily immediately thought of her mother.
Then she pictured her mother’s spare room with the floral quilt and the broken closet door.
Six hours away.
Noah would miss school.
Emily would miss work.
Daniel knew the address.
Carol knew the address.
Everyone knew the address.
“No.”
The word embarrassed her.
The social worker who entered moments later seemed unsurprised.
Her name was Tasha Greene.
She wore gray slacks, white sneakers, and an identification badge with a cartoon cat sticker on it.
Noah noticed the sticker before Emily did.
Tasha pulled up a chair.
“I hear you may need help making a plan for the next few days.”
Emily almost said they were fine.
The lie reached her lips and stopped there.
“Yes.”
Tasha asked whether Daniel controlled access to money.
Emily hesitated.
“We share money.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Emily looked down.
“Mostly.”
“Do you have an account in your name only?”
“No.”
“Credit card he can’t access?”
“No.”
“Family nearby?”
“My mother is in Ohio.”
“Friends?”
Emily thought of Melissa from work.
They ate lunch together twice a week.
Melissa knew Daniel was difficult.
Melissa did not know difficult meant this.
Emily thought of calling her and felt immediate shame.
She pictured Melissa’s small apartment.
Her two cats.
Her boyfriend who stayed over half the week.
Noah sleeping on an air mattress between furniture.
“I don’t know.”
Tasha nodded.
“That’s okay.”
Emily hated hearing okay attached to any of this.
Tasha asked whether she had access to her email.
“Yes.”
“Does Daniel know the password?”
Emily started to say no.
Then remembered Daniel once logging into her account from his laptop to print airline tickets.
“I don’t know.”
Tasha nodded again.
“Any shared cloud accounts?”
“Yes.”
“Location sharing?”
Emily closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Noah spoke up.
“Dad has Find My.”
Emily looked at him.
“He checks where we are.”
Tasha’s attention shifted.
“How often?”
Noah shrugged.
“He asks why Mom is somewhere.”
Emily felt heat rise into her face.
Tasha did not react.
“Did you share location voluntarily?”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
Emily looked at the floor.
“Everything became a question.”
Why were you at Target for forty-seven minutes?
Why did you stop for gas on the other side of town?
Why were you at Melissa’s building?
Why did your phone show unavailable for twelve minutes?
Emily had called those questions annoying.
Possessive on bad days.
Caring on good ones.
She had adjusted her movements instead of naming what was happening.
Tasha asked whether Daniel knew Noah’s device passcode.
Noah nodded.
“He picked it.”
Emily stared at him.
“What?”
“He changed it last month.”
“When?”
“When I forgot the old one.”
Emily pressed her fingers against her temple.
“What’s the new one?”
Noah started to answer.
Tasha raised a hand.
“Don’t say it out loud.”
May you like
Noah closed his mouth.
Tasha explained they would need to turn off location sharing and possibly change passwords from a safe device.
