Chương 3
He did not know what color stuffed animal his son slept with.
Noah finished half the milk.
Then he pushed the cup away.
“Ria?”
“She’s getting your pajamas.”
Noah looked toward the door.
“Ria come.”
“She’s coming.”
A pause.
“Vessa no.”
Ethan stopped breathing for a moment.
“What?”
Noah pressed his face into Ethan’s chest.
“Vessa no.”
Ethan almost asked another question.
He did not.
A two-year-old was not a witness he could interrogate.
He sat in silence instead.
Maria returned carrying dark blue pajamas, a stuffed rabbit and a small blanket. She had also brought Noah’s toothbrush.
Ethan took the pajamas.
“I can do it.”
Maria hesitated.
Then nodded.
He laid Noah on the sofa and discovered he had forgotten how much a toddler could resist clothing while technically not moving very far. One arm went into the wrong sleeve. Noah complained. Ethan tried again.
Maria stood nearby without rescuing him.
After a minute, Ethan looked up.
“You’re enjoying this.”
Her mouth twitched.
“No, sir.”
“That was almost a smile.”
“No.”
“It was.”
“Maybe a little.”
The moment passed quickly.
It left the room less unbearable.
When Noah was changed, Ethan carried him upstairs to the bedroom adjoining his own.
He had chosen the room before Noah was born because Claire liked the morning light.
For months after her death, Ethan had barely entered it unless Maria was present.
Now several things felt wrong before he could identify why.
The photograph from Noah’s dresser was gone.
A framed picture of Claire holding him as an infant used to sit beside the lamp.
In its place was a silver frame containing Vanessa and Noah at a garden party.
Ethan stood in the doorway.
“Where is Claire’s picture?”
Maria stayed behind him.
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t move it?”
“No.”
He crossed to the dresser.
The dust outline was faint but visible.
He opened the top drawer.
Socks. Shirts. Diapers for nighttime. Nothing else.
Second drawer.
Blankets.
Third.
He almost closed it.
Then he saw the corner of a wooden frame beneath folded winter pajamas.
He removed it.
Claire was smiling up at him.
Noah made a soft sound.
“Mama.”
Ethan sat on the edge of the bed.
Noah reached for the photograph.
Maria covered her mouth.
Ethan looked at her.
“She put it in a drawer?”
“I never saw that.”
“When was it moved?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re in this room every day.”
“Not every afternoon anymore.”
“Why?”
Maria’s silence returned.
He waited.
“Vanessa changed my schedule.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
The same period.
“What did she say?”
“That she wanted more private bonding time with him.”
Ethan stared at the photograph.
“Did you object?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She told me I was an employee.”
“You are.”
Maria met his eyes.
“I know.”
There was no anger in the answer.
That made his own words sound worse.
Ethan looked down.
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.”
“No. It isn’t.”
He put Claire’s photograph back on the dresser.
Noah touched the glass.
“Mama.”
Ethan’s throat tightened.
He reached behind the frame and folded out the little support until it stood upright.
“Yeah.”
The word came rough.
“Mama.”
Noah looked at him, waiting.
Ethan had no idea what the child expected.
So he repeated it.
“Yeah. Mama Claire.”
Noah leaned his forehead against the frame.
Then he turned and tucked himself against Ethan.
Maria moved toward the door.
“I’ll let him sleep.”
“Stay.”
She stopped.
Ethan kept his voice low.
“Please.”
Maria sat in the chair by the window.
Noah fell asleep against his father twenty-three minutes later.
Ethan counted because he watched the clock instead of his phone.
When the child’s breathing finally deepened, Ethan lowered him into the crib.
Noah immediately grabbed his sleeve.
Ethan stayed bent over until the small fingers loosened.
Maria rose.
Outside the room, Ethan pulled the door almost closed.
“What exactly did she do?”
Maria’s face changed again.
“I don’t know everything.”
“Tell me what you do know.”
“She would send me out of the room if he said Claire’s name. At first I thought she was upset. I thought maybe it hurt her feelings.”
“What happened when you came back?”
“Sometimes nothing. Sometimes he was crying.”
“Did you see her hit him?”
“No.”
“Shake him?”
“No.”
“Grab him?”
“I saw her hold his shoulders once.”
“How?”
Maria demonstrated on herself.
“Like this. Not violent. Just too hard for him.”
“What was she saying?”
“Look at me. Say Mom.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
Maria continued.
“He kept saying ‘Mama Claire.’ She told him Claire was gone and he had to stop.”
“Those words?”
“Close to those words.”
“You’re not sure.”
“I’m trying not to pretend I remember perfectly.”
That stopped him.
“Good.”
She looked at him carefully.
“I don’t want you to believe me because I’m crying.”
“Then why should I believe you?”
The question came harsher than he intended.
Maria absorbed it.
“Because you should check.”
“Check what?”
“Her messages. My schedule changes. The nursery camera.”
His eyes lifted.
“The camera?”
“She turned it off.”
“When?”
“About a month ago.”
Ethan took out his phone.
The home-security application showed the nursery camera offline.
He had received an alert when it happened.
He searched.
There it was.
Camera disconnected, 10:14 a.m., July 7.
Below it, a note added to the household system.
Privacy request approved by V. Blackwood.
Ethan had not seen it.
“Who approved this?”
“She can approve household changes.”
“I know.”
Because he had given her access.
Maria looked toward the closed nursery door.
“I asked the house manager. He said Mrs. Blackwood requested it.”
“Paul didn’t tell me?”
“Why would he? She lives here.”
Ethan put the phone away.
That answer was fair.
He hated it anyway.
“Anything else?”
Maria hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“She told me if I interfered with her parenting again, she’d replace me.”
“Parenting.”
“That’s the word she used.”
“And you stayed.”
Maria’s eyes flashed.
“For him.”
It was the first time she sounded angry.
May you like
Ethan let the silence sit.
Then Maria looked embarrassed by her own tone.
