Chương 5
“No.”
“It sounds practiced.”
“So did your answers for the first ten minutes.”
That shut him up.
Ortiz’s phone vibrated.
She checked it.
Her expression changed slightly.
“What?” Nate asked.
Ortiz looked at Sloan.
Then at Nate.
“The hospital’s preliminary testing found a medication in the discarded IV bag that was not ordered for your son.”
Nate’s hand tightened around the rail.
“What medication?”
“I’m not going to speculate about significance until the medical team confirms it.”
“Would it have hurt him?”
“The physician believes the amount could have been dangerous given his condition.”
Nate stood.
“Where is Marcus?”
Sloan moved before Ortiz did.
Not toward him aggressively.
Just enough to block the door.
“Do not do what you are thinking about doing.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“I have brothers.”
Nate stared at her.
“That doesn’t qualify you.”
“No. It just saves time.”
He sat again because Ben moved beneath the blanket.
The boy opened his eyes.
Nate leaned over him.
“Hey.”
Ben frowned at the oxygen mask.
“Can I take it off?”
“Not yet.”
“I hate it.”
“That’s fair.”
Ben looked around.
His gaze paused at Sloan and Ortiz.
“Who are they?”
“Friends.”
Ortiz raised an eyebrow.
Nate corrected himself.
“People helping us.”
“Where’s Mom?”
Everything inside Nate stopped.
The doctors had warned him this might happen.
Head injury. Sedation. Confusion.
Memory returning unevenly.
He had prepared three different ways to tell his son that Leah was dead.
None survived the moment.
Ben watched him.
“Dad?”
Nate sat on the edge of the bed.
He took Ben’s hand carefully around the tape.
“Buddy.”
Ben looked toward the door.
“Is Mom hurt?”
Nate could not get the sentence out.
His son saw it anyway.
Children were cruel that way. Not intentionally. They simply had not yet learned all the polite ways adults pretended not to understand something terrible.
Ben’s eyes filled.
“No.”
Nate lowered his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“She died after the crash.”
“No.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Ben pulled his hand free.
The monitor quickened.
“No, she didn’t.”
A nurse entered.
Ben turned his face away from Nate.
“No.”
Nate stayed beside him while the nurse checked numbers and spoke in a low voice.
Ben did not look back.
Later, Rachel sat with him.
Nate went to the bathroom and vomited.
When he came out, Sloan was waiting in the hall.
She handed him a paper cup of water.
He rinsed his mouth.
Neither said anything for a while.
A television somewhere nearby played a game show. Somebody applauded for a refrigerator.
Finally Sloan said, “Your brother has retained counsel.”
Nate stared at the cup.
“Of course he has.”
“He’s also requested that all contact go through his attorney.”
“Smart.”
“Yes.”
“Did you arrest him?”
“No.”
Nate laughed bitterly.
Sloan’s expression did not change.
“We are moving as quickly as the evidence allows.”
“My son almost died.”
“I know.”
“No, you know there was an unauthorized drug in a bag.”
“Yes.”
“You know Marcus was in the room.”
“Yes.”
“You know a nurse saw him.”
“She saw something.”
Nate looked up sharply.
Sloan did not retreat.
“You want me to tell you we know exactly what happened. We don’t.”
“Celia knows.”
“Celia believes she knows.”
“He shoved her.”
“That is better supported.”
“Do you always talk like this?”
“At work.”
“You must be exhausting at dinner.”
“My husband agrees.”
The answer caught Nate off guard.
A laugh escaped him.
One dry, ugly sound.
He hated himself immediately.
Sloan did not smile.
“You’re allowed to laugh.”
“I’m not looking for permission.”
“Good.”
She started to walk away.
Nate called after her.
“Agent Sloan.”
She turned.
“If Leah hid something… if I find it…”
“You call me.”
“What if it implicates me?”
“You call me faster.”
That afternoon, Ben remembered more.
Not because Nate questioned him.
He had been explicitly told not to.
A child interviewer would speak with Ben later, when his doctors considered him ready.
Instead the memories came in pieces.
Rachel asked whether he wanted apple juice.
Ben said Mom had bought the wrong apple juice last week.
A nurse adjusted his pillow.
Ben asked whether Uncle Marcus was still mad.
Rachel looked at Nate.
Nate forced himself to remain still.
“Mad about what?” Rachel asked.
Ben frowned.
“Mom’s hiding place.”
Nate’s heart thudded.
He nearly spoke.
Rachel shot him a warning look.
Ben picked at a loose thread on the blanket.
“He kept asking.”
“When?” Rachel asked gently.
“Before Dad came.”
“At the hospital?”
Ben nodded.
“Did he ask you something?”
“He said Mom gave me something.”
Nate’s jaw tightened.
Ben looked at him.
“Did she?”
Nate asked the question before he could stop himself.
Rachel stood.
“Nate.”
“What?”
“You were told not to.”
“I asked one question.”
“That’s how it starts.”
Ben’s face crumpled.
“Stop fighting.”
The shame of it silenced both adults.
Nate sat down.
“Sorry, buddy.”
Rachel touched Ben’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry too.”
Ben stared at the blanket.
“She didn’t give me anything.”
Nate said nothing.
“She just showed me.”
Rachel glanced at Nate, then back to Ben.
“What did she show you?”
Ben shook his head.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Okay.”
“Uncle Marcus said Dad could get in trouble.”
Nate felt cold.
Ben rolled his face toward the window.
“He said Mom was confused.”
Nate stayed in the chair for nearly an hour after Ben fell asleep.
Rachel eventually went downstairs for coffee.
When she returned, she found Nate staring at his phone.
Leah’s final unread text was still there.
Call me when you can. It matters.
He had read it after she was dead.
Rachel sat beside him.
“You should change clothes.”
“I know.”
“You’re starting to scare civilians.”
“I am a civilian problem now.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“No.”
She nudged the duffel with her foot.
“Your mother packed underwear.”
“Good.”
“And the ugly gray sweatshirt.”
“I like that sweatshirt.”
“She knows.”
Nate took the bag to the family bathroom.
May you like
He removed the dress jacket.
The medals felt heavier when he held them rather than wore them.
