Chương 11
“You don’t have to tell Dad everything right now.”
“I got hurt.”
“I can see that, buddy.”
Mark’s voice trembled in a way I had never heard.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
Mark closed his eyes.
“Okay.”
That was all.
No false reassurance.
No heroic promise.
Just okay.
Noah began talking about the hospital Jell-O.
Children were merciful that way.
They could move from terror to gelatin because gelatin was currently in front of them.
I stepped into the hall while they talked.
Mark called me back ten minutes later from another phone.
“What did your mother do?”
I leaned against the wall.
“Police are still figuring it out.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I know.”
“Emily.”
“She hurt him.”
His breathing changed.
“And Madison?”
“She was involved.”
There was a long silence.
Then Mark said something so quietly I almost missed it.
“I told you not to leave him there.”
The words hit exactly where he meant them to.
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
“I told you.”
“Yes.”
“I said your mother scared him.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you listen?”
There was no defense worth offering.
Because my sitter canceled.
Because of work.
Because mothers were supposed to be safer than strangers.
Because admitting my mother frightened my son would have required admitting things about my childhood I had spent years sanding smooth.
“I don’t know.”
Mark laughed without humor.
“That is such crap.”
“It is.”
He stopped.
The anger on the line collapsed under its own weight.
“I’m trying to get home.”
“When?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Call your command.”
“I have.”
He took a breath.
“Don’t keep things from me because you think I’ll blame you.”
I said nothing.
“I do blame you.”
The honesty hurt less than mercy would have.
“But that can wait.”
I looked through the glass at Noah talking animatedly to his father’s frozen image on the tablet.
“Okay.”
“And Emily?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let your mother near him.”
“She won’t.”
“I mean ever.”
“I know.”
“No, say it.”
My throat tightened.
“She will never be near him again.”
Mark exhaled.
“Good.”
After the call, I went into a supply bathroom and cried for exactly three minutes.
Not because I timed it intentionally.
Because after three minutes someone knocked and asked whether I was okay.
I washed my face with brown paper towels that felt like sandpaper.
When I returned, Ruiz was waiting.
“We found Mercer.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Where?”
“At his house.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Arrested?”
“Detained while a warrant is being executed.”
I sat down.
Relief made me dizzy.
“Was Leon there?”
“No.”
“Did Mercer say why he was with him?”
“He wants a lawyer.”
“Of course he does.”
“That is his right.”
“I know.”
I did know.
Knowing did not make it satisfying.
Ruiz sat beside me.
“There’s something else.”
I laughed bitterly.
“There is always something else.”
“We found a connection between Mercer and your mother.”
“What?”
“Financial records.”
My stomach sank.
“He paid her?”
“We found transfers from a company tied to Mercer.”
“How much?”
“Regular amounts over two years.”
“For what?”
“Listed as home-care consulting.”
“My mother isn’t a consultant.”
“We know.”
“She worked payroll for a dental office.”
“We know.”
I stared at him.
“Was she keeping children for him?”
“We don’t know.”
The phrase had become intolerable.
“What do you know?”
Ruiz did not flinch.
“We know Mercer’s company sent your mother just under seventy thousand dollars over twenty-six months.”
My mouth went dry.
“We know Leon received payments from the same company.”
He paused.
“And we know the initials in the shed ledger correspond to at least three missing children.”
I felt cold despite the hospital heat.
“Three?”
“Ava is one.”
“Who are the others?”
“We’re notifying families.”
“Are they alive?”
“We don’t know.”
This time the phrase sounded different.
Not evasive.
Heavy.
I looked at Noah.
“He opened the shed because he heard someone coughing.”
“Yes.”
“He did more in two days than all of us did in three years.”
Ruiz said nothing.
At seven-fifteen, Sofia called.
Ava was conscious again.
She wanted Noah’s blanket.
I almost laughed.
“Tell her she already has it.”
Sofia’s voice broke.
“She knows.”
“What does she mean?”
“She says it isn’t hers.”
I looked toward Noah.
“She wants to give it back?”
“Yes.”
I told Sofia to keep it.
Noah would want her warm.
When I asked him, he proved me right.
“She needs it more.”
Then he added, “But tell her not to get strawberry yogurt on it.”
I relayed the warning.
Sofia actually laughed.
It was the first human sound I had heard from her that was not grief.
Twenty minutes later, Ruiz returned with a photograph printed on plain office paper.
“Do you recognize this place?”
It showed a one-story brick house with boarded windows and a sagging wooden fence.
“No.”
“It’s the Irving address from the ledger.”
My pulse increased.
“What did police find?”
“Nobody inside.”
“Then why are you showing me?”
He pointed to the front porch.
A ceramic planter sat beside the door.
Blue flowers painted around the rim.
I knew it.
My mother had owned its twin for years.
She kept one beside her back steps with dead rosemary in it.
“She has that pot.”
“Officers found an old photograph in her bedroom.”
He showed me another image.
My mother stood beside the Irving house.
Leon was next to her.
Mercer stood on the other side.
The photograph was dated almost nine years earlier.
Before Noah was born.
Before Ava disappeared.
Before any of the ledger entries.
“You said this went back three years.”
“The ledger does.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“What went back nine?”
Ruiz’s jaw tightened.
“We’re trying to determine that.”
His phone rang.
He answered, listened, and immediately stood.
“What?”
He did not answer me at first.
He asked the caller to repeat something.
Then he turned toward the ICU doors.
“Lock down this floor.”
May you like
The officer outside Noah’s room straightened.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
