Chương 3
A police radio crackled in the corridor.
Daniel turned and walked away.
The officer moved after him, but Ruiz raised one hand. “Keep eyes on him. Do not detain unless he tries to leave the building before we speak.”
Claire began shaking.
Ethan released the bed rail as if it had burned him. “You gave Hannah to him?”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I didn’t give her to anyone.”
“What do you call it?”
Claire closed her eyes. “I thought he was helping.”
“Where?”
“Mercy House.”
Ruiz pulled a chair beside the bed. “What is Mercy House?”
“A home for girls outside Bloomington. Daniel said they helped teenagers who were in danger of making decisions they couldn’t undo.”
“What danger was Hannah in?”
Claire opened her eyes, but she looked at the ceiling. “She had taken documents from the church.”
Ethan stared at her. “What documents?”
“Financial records. Copies of checks. She said money from the Bridge Fund wasn’t going where Daniel claimed.”
The Bridge Fund had been one of Pastor Daniel’s proudest ministries. Photographs of smiling teenagers and single mothers appeared in the church lobby beside donation envelopes. Daniel spoke about emergency hotel rooms, bus tickets, and tuition deposits. Claire had coordinated volunteers. Hannah had spent two afternoons a week entering receipts into the office computer.
“Hannah told me she had proof,” Claire continued. “She wanted to take it to a reporter.”
“And you stopped her,” Ethan said.
“I asked her to wait.”
“You stopped her.”
“I was trying to understand what she had found.”
“By sending her away?”
Claire flinched. “Daniel said some of the records had private information. He said Hannah could get the church sued. He said she had misunderstood transfers between accounts.”
Ruiz asked, “When did this conversation happen?”
“The night she left.”
“What date?”
Claire gave the date. It was the same night she had told police she found Hannah’s room empty.
“Start at the beginning,” Ruiz said. “Do not skip anything because you think it makes you look bad.”
Claire looked at Ethan then. “You should go.”
He laughed once. The sound was wrong and small. “No.”
“Ethan.”
“You let me search drainage ditches.”
Her eyes filled, but the tears did not fall.
“You watched me print flyers,” he said. “You watched me call hospitals. You watched me sleep beside my phone.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I know what I did.”
“You knew she didn’t take her phone.”
Claire pressed both hands against the blanket. “She came into my room after midnight. She was carrying her backpack. She said she was leaving whether I helped or not. Daniel was already on his way because I had called him.”
“Why did you call him?”
“He knew the church records. He knew what she was talking about.”
“Exactly.”
“I didn’t see it then.”
“You didn’t want to.”
Claire’s mouth tightened. For the first time, shame gave way to defensiveness. “You weren’t there.”
“I was asleep across the hall.”
“You weren’t in that conversation.”
“Because nobody woke me up.”
“Hannah didn’t want you involved.”
Ethan stepped back as if she had shoved him.
Claire saw it. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“What did she say?”
“Ethan,” Ruiz warned gently.
“No. What did Hannah say about me?”
Claire rubbed the edge of the blanket between two fingers. “She said you would try to fix it. She said you’d tell her to calm down.”
The words found a place already tender.
Three days before Hannah vanished, she had come into Ethan’s room while he was playing a game with headphones on. She had asked if he thought Pastor Daniel could be trusted. Ethan had glanced at her for less than a second.
What did you do now? he had said.
She had called him an ass and left.
He had forgotten the exchange until that moment.
Claire continued in a low voice. “Daniel said he would drive her to Mercy House. Just for a few nights. He said lawyers could look at the records while she was somewhere safe. Hannah didn’t want to go with him, but I told her I would come the next morning.”
“Did you?”
Claire shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Daniel called before dawn. He said she had run from him at a gas station.”
Ruiz leaned closer. “Where?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. He said the police would blame us for helping her cross county lines. He said we needed to let Hannah cool down and come home on her own.”
“And then he brought you the phone?”
“The next night.”
“Along with the necklace?”
Claire nodded. “He said she left them in his car.”
“Why did you hide them?”
Her face collapsed inward, not with theatrical grief but exhaustion. “Because I had already lied.”
“You could have corrected it,” Ruiz said.
“I thought she would come home.”
“After one day?”
“Yes.”
“After one week?”
Claire did not answer.
“One month?”
The monitor continued its steady electronic accusation.
Claire whispered, “Every day I waited made the day before worse.”
Ethan turned toward the window. Cars moved along the street six floors below. A woman in blue scrubs crossed the parking lot carrying a paper cup and holding her coat closed with one hand. Nothing about her suggested that a family had just opened in half above her.
“Where are the records Hannah took?” Ruiz asked.
“I never saw them.”
“Did Daniel ask about them?”
“All the time.”
“How often did he contact you after Hannah disappeared?”
Claire looked toward the empty doorway. “Every day at first.”
“What did he say?”
“That silence was important. That if Hannah felt cornered, she’d stay gone longer. He prayed with me.”
Ethan turned back. “He organized the searches.”
“I know.”
“He stood beside her picture and asked people to look for her.”
“I know.”
“He hugged me.”
Claire lowered her head.
May you like
Ruiz rose. “I’m stopping this conversation until your physician confirms you can continue and you’ve been advised of your rights. Ethan, come with me.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
