Chương 4
Claire looked up quickly, hope entering her face for the first time.
Ethan added, “I’m standing outside.”
The hope disappeared.
Pastor Daniel had not left the hospital. Two officers found him in the chapel, sitting alone in the front pew. He agreed to speak with Ruiz in a consultation room and denied taking Hannah anywhere.
According to Daniel, Claire had called him the night Hannah disappeared, but he arrived after Hannah was already gone. He had never heard of Mercy House outside a general conversation about youth shelters. Claire’s cardiac episode, he suggested, might have left her confused. Her guilt over Hannah’s disappearance had produced strange beliefs before.
When Ruiz asked why his fingerprints might be on Hannah’s phone, Daniel said he had handled it many times during youth group.
When she asked why Claire would hide it inside a Bible he had given her, he requested an attorney.
He left the hospital two hours later.
There was not yet enough to arrest him.
Ethan watched from the end of the corridor as Daniel passed. The pastor did not approach. He stopped long enough to button his coat.
“You’re scared,” Ethan said.
Daniel looked at him with an expression that resembled pity. “You’re hurt.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“You took her.”
“Your mother is ill, Ethan.”
“You keep saying that like it erases what she said.”
“Medication, fear, and guilt can create certainty where none exists.”
Ethan stepped toward him. An officer shifted closer.
Daniel lowered his voice. “I loved your family before you had reason to need me. Remember that when people begin telling you what to think.”
“You loved having us need you.”
For the first time, Daniel’s composure slipped. Not much. His mouth tightened, and one nostril flared with a breath he seemed to regret.
Then he left.
Claire remained hospitalized overnight. Her heart rhythm stabilized, but the doctor wanted to observe her after the stress of the interview. A nurse brought Ethan a turkey sandwich he did not eat. Ruiz sat with him in a waiting area while a vending machine hummed beside them.
“We obtained a warrant to search your house and seize the Bible, the devices, and anything connected to Hannah’s disappearance,” she said.
“You already took the phone.”
“The warrant covers the formal seizure and a broader search.”
“Are you arresting my mother?”
“Not tonight.”
“Later?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan picked at the corner of the sandwich wrapper. “She lied to police.”
“Yes.”
“She concealed evidence.”
“Yes.”
“She sent a sixteen-year-old away with a man.”
“Based on what she told us.”
“You sound like you’re defending her.”
“I’m being precise.”
“I don’t care about precise.”
“You will.”
Ruiz’s voice remained even, but not cold. “Precision is how we keep a defense attorney from turning what happened to Hannah into a story about careless police and an angry brother.”
Ethan looked at her.
“You are allowed to hate your mother tonight,” Ruiz said. “You are allowed to hate Pastor Daniel. You are allowed to hate me. But do not post photographs, messages, accusations, or theories online. Do not contact Daniel. Do not search church property. Do not tell people what your mother confessed.”
“Why?”
“Because we need witnesses remembering what they actually saw, not what they read from you.”
“I want people to know.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
Ruiz leaned back. “My younger brother disappeared for four days when he was nineteen. He was found alive and furious that we had looked for him. For those four days I believed every terrible possibility my mind offered. That does not make our situations the same. It means I won’t insult you by pretending wanting an answer is the same as being ready for one.”
Ethan folded the sandwich wrapper until it split.
“Can you find Mercy House?”
“We’re trying.”
“What about Daniel’s car?”
“We’re trying.”
“Traffic cameras?”
“We’re trying.”
“Phone records?”
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“The most honest answer you will hear from me is that investigations take longer than fear does.”
He looked away.
Claire called his name when he returned to her room, but he stayed near the door.
The cardigan had slipped from one shoulder. She adjusted it with an awkward movement, trying to preserve a dignity no one had asked from her.
“Did Daniel speak to you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That you were confused.”
She gave a dry, broken laugh. “Of course.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“You lied for seventy-three days.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get points for being honest now.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
Claire looked at the monitor. “All right.”
Ethan waited for an explanation, apology, or excuse. She offered none.
That made him angrier.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“I was afraid you’d go after him.”
“You were protecting me?”
“No.” Her answer came quickly. “I told myself that. It wasn’t true.”
“What was true?”
“I was protecting the last version of myself I could live with.”
Ethan’s hand tightened around the doorframe.
Claire continued. “The first lie was that Hannah had left from the house. After that, every truth required me to admit I had put her in the car. Then it required me to admit Daniel might have lied. Then it required me to admit I had listened to him because listening was easier than believing my daughter.”
“Why was he easier to believe?”
“Because he was calm.”
Ethan almost laughed again.
Claire wiped beneath one eye with her thumb. “Your father left bills, promises, and two children who watched me every time the phone rang. Daniel found us an apartment. He paid the deposit from the Bridge Fund. He got me the hospital scheduling job. Every time I thought I couldn’t manage something, he appeared with a form or a check or a person to call.”
“So you owed him Hannah?”
“No.”
“That’s what you paid.”
Claire’s face went still.
May you like
Ethan regretted the words as soon as he said them. He did not take them back.
A faint door creak sounded behind him. The nurse entered to check Claire’s IV. She spoke about blood pressure and discharge paperwork as if mother and son were discussing groceries. Ethan moved aside. Claire answered the nurse’s questions politely. She even apologized for the tangled monitor wire.
