Chương 6
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Years?”
“Maybe.”
“You never told me that.”
“I probably did.”
“You didn’t.”
He frowned.
“We’ve been together eight years, Claire.”
“I know.”
“I’m sure I mentioned it.”
“You told me she lived in Iowa.”
“She did.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“This is not important.”
“It is if your mother learned this from her.”
He stood abruptly.
“I need coffee.”
I stared at him.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“Ryan.”
“What do you want me to do?”
His voice rose enough that Denise glanced toward the doorway.
“I can’t stand here and look at that bag anymore.”
“So you’re leaving?”
“I’m going twenty feet down the hall.”
“You always leave when you don’t want to answer something.”
He looked at me as if I had slapped him.
“That’s not fair.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, I do.”
He pointed toward Sophie, then dropped his hand.
“My daughter is lying there and I just found out my mother may have tied me to furniture when I was an infant, and you’re mad because I want bad hospital coffee.”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing useful came.
Ryan picked up his wallet from the chair.
“Do you want anything?”
“No.”
“Fine.”
He left.
Tessa pretended to study the monitor.
Officer Vega did not pretend.
“You two have family nearby?”
“My parents are in Ohio.”
“His?”
I looked at the empty doorway.
“Apparently complicated.”
She nodded once.
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was my mother.
I answered.
“Hi.”
“Claire?”
The moment I heard her voice, I broke.
Not completely.
Just enough that I had to turn toward the wall.
“Oh, sweetheart, what happened?”
“How do you know?”
“Ryan called your father.”
I closed my eyes.
Ryan had not called Linda.
He had called my father.
The realization carried a small, shameful relief.
“Sophie’s in the ICU.”
My mother went quiet.
“What happened?”
“Linda restrained her.”
There was a pause long enough that I heard my father in the background asking what I had said.
“What do you mean restrained?”
“She tied her to the guest bed.”
My mother inhaled sharply.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Sophie.
“I think so.”
“Oh, honey.”
“Don’t say that.”
“What?”
“Don’t call me honey right now.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
I almost laughed at the echo of Denise.
My mother asked, “Do you want us to come?”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised me by how quickly it came.
“All right.”
“Mom.”
“I’m here.”
“I left her there.”
“No.”
“I left her with Linda.”
“You went to work.”
“I knew she was impatient with her.”
“Claire.”
“She complained about the crying last week.”
“That is not the same as knowing this would happen.”
“She said Sophie was spoiled.”
My throat closed.
“I laughed.”
My mother said nothing.
“I laughed because she said a three-month-old was spoiled.”
“You didn’t know.”
I sat down in Ryan’s chair.
“I should have.”
“No.”
“I should have listened.”
“To what?”
“To the part of me that didn’t like leaving.”
“That part of every mother hates leaving.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, I don’t.”
Her voice stayed calm.
“But I know you, and you’re going to put yourself on trial before anyone else gets the chance.”
I covered my eyes.
Across the room, Officer Vega looked away.
My mother continued.
“Save some of that energy for the person who actually tied the baby down.”
I could hear my father saying something behind her.
She answered him quietly.
“What?”
I asked.
“He’s looking at flights.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll come tonight if we can.”
“Okay.”
“And Claire?”
“Yes.”
“Do not be alone with Linda.”
I looked at Officer Vega.
“I don’t plan to be.”
After the call ended, I noticed a voicemail notification from an unknown number.
The timestamp was 3:18 p.m.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the same number had called twice more.
I pressed play.
A woman’s voice filled the small room.
“Hi, this is Megan from Little Sprouts Pediatrics calling for Claire Mercer regarding Sophie.”
My entire body went still.
“We received a voicemail from Linda Mercer asking whether repetitive arm and leg movements at Sophie’s age could indicate seizures.”
Ryan appeared in the doorway carrying two coffees.
He stopped when he heard the message.
The voicemail continued.
“Dr. Feldman reviewed the question and said normal symmetrical kicking and arm movements are common in young infants, especially when excited or overstimulated.”
Ryan put both coffees on the counter.
“However, if Sophie is having episodes of unresponsiveness, rhythmic jerking, color change, breathing difficulty, or anything that concerns you, please seek urgent evaluation.”
The message ended.
Nobody spoke.
Officer Vega held out her hand.
“May I hear that again?”
I replayed it.
Ryan stared at my phone.
“She called the pediatrician.”
“At three eighteen,” I said.
Tessa asked, “Did the office speak to her directly?”
“It sounds like voicemail.”
Officer Vega wrote down the number and time.
“Keep that message.”
“Why would she call?”
Ryan asked.
I looked at him.
“Because Sophie was moving.”
“No.”
“What else?”
“She wouldn’t invent seizures just because of kicking.”
“She already did.”
He shook his head.
“I mean before this.”
I understood what he was trying not to say.
“You think something happened before she tied her down.”
He sat.
“I don’t know.”
Tessa asked, “What time did Linda say she restrained Sophie?”
Officer Vega checked her notes.
“She initially said around three forty-five.”
I looked at the phone.
“So she called the pediatrician first.”
“It appears so.”
“Then the office called back.”
“Yes.”
“And they told her the movements were normal.”
“According to the voicemail.”
Ryan stood again.
“No.”
His face had changed.
This time he did not look frightened.
He looked betrayed.
“She knew.”
Officer Vega did not respond.
“She knew the movement could be normal.”
“We need to verify when she heard the message.”
Ryan looked at me.
“My mother checks voicemail immediately.”
May you like
“You don’t know she heard it.”
“She does.”
