Chương 10
“That sounds like you were cleared.”
“It means they couldn’t prove the decision violated the contract.”
“That is not the same as causing his death.”
“No.”
His agreement came softly.
Claire waited.
Earl continued. “It also isn’t the same as being right.”
The staff lounge refrigerator clicked on behind her.
“What happened after the explosion?” she asked.
“Our vehicle rolled. Fuel line ruptured. I was trapped. Daniel got the driver out, then came back for me. I told him not to.”
“Could he hear you?”
“Probably.”
“Why did he return?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“I can’t.”
“Neither can I.”
Claire looked through the lounge door toward the dim unit.
“What was in the letter?” she asked.
“I told you I didn’t open it.”
“Do you know why he wrote it?”
“He and Hannah had a fight. He thought she was leaving.”
“Was she pregnant?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Did he know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“There’s a lot I don’t know.”
The tremor in his voice was almost imperceptible. Claire heard it only because she had spent days watching it in his hands.
“Robert’s story makes you the reason Daniel is dead,” she said.
“Maybe he needs that.”
“What do you need?”
The question remained unanswered long enough that Claire checked whether the call had dropped.
Finally Earl said, “For the baby not to grow up thinking her father disappeared because he didn’t love her mother.”
“That is Hannah’s decision.”
“I know.”
“And the tag belongs to her.”
“I know.”
“So does the letter.”
“I know.”
“Then you have done what you promised.”
“No.”
“What remains?”
“I have to tell Hannah what Daniel said before he died.”
Claire’s grip tightened around the phone.
“What did he say?”
Earl ended the call.
The next morning, security found spray paint across the door of Earl’s apartment.
MURDERER.
A neighbor had recorded two masked teenagers running from the building, but the footage did not show their faces clearly. Earl declined to file a formal complaint. His landlord, concerned about other tenants, issued a notice warning that repeated disturbances could affect his lease.
Miriam told Claire after receiving a call from the veterans’ rehabilitation counselor.
“This is spiraling,” Miriam said.
“Robert started it.”
“That does not reduce the damage.”
“Can the hospital issue a correction?”
“Communications says patient privacy prevents us from addressing specific claims.”
“We can defend Earl’s volunteer record.”
“And confirm that the article identified the right volunteer?”
Claire hated the logic.
“Where is he staying?” she asked.
“At home.”
“After someone painted his door?”
“He washed it off.”
“Of course he did.”
Miriam studied her. “You are getting personally involved.”
“I wrote the placement concern.”
“That does not make him your responsibility.”
“No. It makes my part my responsibility.”
Miriam’s face softened. “Those are not always the same thing.”
In the NICU, Hannah learned about the article from a cardiac nurse who forgot that she had not been told.
Hannah demanded her phone, read Robert’s quotes, and called him.
Claire entered the room midway through the conversation.
“You don’t get to use her,” Hannah said into the phone. “You didn’t even believe she existed.”
Robert’s voice was loud enough to hear from several feet away.
“I’m trying to protect Daniel’s child.”
“You’re trying to win an argument with a dead man.”
“That stranger is manipulating you.”
“I haven’t spoken to Earl.”
“Then why are you defending him?”
“I’m not. I’m telling you to take the article down.”
“It’s already public.”
“Then correct it.”
“What part?”
“The part where I’m unstable. The part where Daniel wasn’t married. The part where you pretend you came here for me.”
Robert’s voice dropped.
Hannah listened, breathing hard.
“No,” she said. “You don’t get to cry now.”
She ended the call and threw the phone onto the blanket. The effort left her shaking.
Claire approached carefully. “Your heart rate is high.”
“Thank you, machine with shoes.”
Claire checked the monitor. “That was almost funny.”
“It wasn’t.”
“No.”
Hannah pressed both palms over her face. “He’ll never stop.”
“Robert?”
“Any of them. They need Daniel to belong to them. His parents, the Army, Earl. Now people online who never met him.”
“And you?”
Hannah lowered her hands.
“I need him to be dead,” she said. “That sounds awful.”
“It sounds like you need reality to stay where you put it.”
“I spent months checking the door.”
Claire sat.
“After they notified me, I still checked. Every time somebody came up the stairs. Every car in the lot. I’d think maybe they made a mistake, or maybe he lied about dying because he wanted out.” Hannah gave a harsh little laugh. “That would’ve been easier to hate.”
“Did you know you were pregnant?”
“Three days after the funeral.”
“Did you tell his parents?”
“I emailed Marlene.”
“She says Daniel never told them.”
“She’s right. He didn’t.”
“Did she answer you?”
“No.”
“Could the message have gone to spam?”
“It had a photograph of three pregnancy tests and the words Your son left me one more emergency. Hard to confuse with a coupon.”
Claire looked toward the window.
“I wasn’t kind,” Hannah said. “I wanted to hurt her.”
“That does not make ignoring you reasonable.”
“I know.”
“Do you have the email?”
“Yes.”
“Would you show it to Tessa?”
“Why?”
“Because Robert is telling a court he had no reason to know about the baby.”
Hannah’s face closed.
Claire understood the hesitation. Evidence helped, but evidence also exposed. Private grief became an attachment. A bitter sentence became an exhibit. Once released, the email would belong to lawyers who could make Hannah sound vindictive and Marlene sound deceived.
“I’ll think about it,” Hannah said.
“That’s enough.”
Hannah stared at Claire’s ID badge.
“Why were you afraid of Earl?”
Claire had not told her that.
“Who said I was?”
“He did, in one of the messages after Daniel died. Said people see him before they meet him.”
May you like
Claire felt something settle heavily beneath her ribs.
“What else did he say in those messages?”
