Chương 6
Others called Ethan a liar.
Church members flooded the comments with statements about Daniel’s character. A woman Ethan had known since kindergarten wrote that grief could make young people cruel. One man said Claire’s illness explained everything. Another demanded proof, as though a photograph of a hollow Bible were a trick Ethan had arranged for attention.
Ruiz called at twelve eighteen.
“Delete it.”
“No.”
“You disclosed evidence.”
“I didn’t show the phone.”
“You identified a person who has not been charged.”
“He took her.”
“We do not yet have admissible evidence establishing where he took her.”
“My mother told you.”
“And now every future witness has read your version.”
“Maybe one of them knows something.”
“Maybe. Or maybe three people will invent memories because they want to help, six will coordinate stories to protect Daniel, and anyone who truly knows something will call his lawyer instead of us.”
Ethan sat on the floor of Mr. Hale’s spare room. The walls were paneled in fake wood. A box fan rattled in the window even though it was cold outside.
“I’m not deleting it.”
Ruiz was quiet.
“You told me I could hate you,” he said.
“I did.”
“I do.”
“That’s fine. Delete the post.”
He ended the call.
By morning, reporters waited near the church entrance. Daniel issued a statement through an attorney denying involvement in Hannah’s disappearance and asking the public to respect the privacy of a family undergoing a medical and emotional crisis.
Claire’s name trended locally beside words like cover-up and accomplice.
A photograph of Ethan entering school appeared on a news site before lunch.
The principal called him into the office and offered remote classes. Ethan refused because it sounded like another form of disappearing. He went to chemistry and sat while the teacher pretended not to notice students glancing at him.
At lunch, Hannah’s best friend, Maya Ellis, placed her tray across from him.
Maya had stopped speaking to Ethan after the first week Hannah was missing. She blamed Claire openly and Ethan privately, though she had never explained why. Her black braids were tied behind her head, and she wore Hannah’s old debate-team sweatshirt.
“You made it worse,” she said.
“Good to see you too.”
“I mean for Hannah.”
“You know where she is?”
“No.”
“Then don’t tell me what’s worse for her.”
Maya peeled the lid from a yogurt cup. “You put her face under a thousand strangers arguing about whether she’s a liar.”
“She’s missing.”
“She hated those photos.”
“What photos?”
“The ones from church. The Bridge Fund stuff. Daniel made kids pose like grateful little advertisements.”
Ethan looked at the sweatshirt. “Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“I did.”
“Ruiz never said.”
“Because my interview isn’t yours.”
He lowered his voice. “What did Hannah tell you?”
Maya stirred the yogurt without eating it. “That Daniel moved money around. That some families listed in the church newsletter never received what he said they did. She found checks written to New Promise Outreach.”
“What is that?”
“She didn’t know. The address belonged to a farm.”
“Where?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I told her to go to the police, and she said your mother would stop her.”
Ethan felt every nearby voice become indistinct. “Did she say anything about Mercy House?”
“No.”
“Did she say Daniel threatened her?”
“Not directly.”
“What did she say?”
Maya looked at him for a long moment. “She said Daniel never raised his voice. She said that was how he made you feel unreasonable for being afraid.”
Ethan thought of the hospital corridor.
Maya pushed the yogurt away. “The day before she disappeared, she asked if she could stay at my house. My mom said she needed to call Claire first. Hannah left before she did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“At the search headquarters. You told me your mother was barely functioning and I needed to stop accusing people.”
He remembered Maya standing near the folding tables in the church gym. He remembered her angry face. He had assumed anger made her unfair.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I don’t need it.”
“I wasn’t saying it for you.”
“That sounds like you.”
She stood, lifting her tray.
“Maya.”
She stopped.
“Did Hannah have the records?”
“She had photographs. She said she saved them somewhere Daniel couldn’t reach.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Maya glanced at his phone. “Take down the post.”
“Why?”
“Because Hannah spent months trying not to let Daniel control the story, and now you’re doing it for her.”
That afternoon, Ethan deleted the post.
It was too late to pull it back, but the act cost him enough to matter. Screenshots remained everywhere. Commentators had already turned the hollow Bible into a symbol for whatever they disliked about religion, parents, teenagers, police, or the town.
Mr. Hale watched Ethan remove the post from a folding chair in the garage.
“Internet’s a bad place to bleed,” he said.
Ethan looked up. “That supposed to help?”
“No.”
Mr. Hale returned to repairing a lamp. His hands were spotted with age and nicked from decades of work. After a minute he said, “Your mother came over last winter because the kitchen outlet kept tripping.”
“I remember.”
“She asked me not to tell you she couldn’t afford an electrician.”
“You fixed it free.”
“I charged her six dollars.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn’t take free.”
The lamp clicked on, then flickered out.
Mr. Hale removed the bulb. “People can be proud and scared and stupid all at once. Doesn’t make the damage smaller.”
Ethan leaned against the workbench. “Everybody wants me to see her side.”
“I don’t.”
“You just explained her.”
“I said people can be several things. Your mother may be several terrible things this week.”
Mr. Hale squinted into the socket. “You can stay as long as you need. Don’t leave dishes in the sink.”
May you like
The forensic lab powered Hannah’s phone two days later.
Ruiz asked Ethan and Claire to come separately to the station. Ethan waited in a small interview room with a paper cup of water. Claire arrived with Rebecca and an attorney provided through a legal-aid referral. Ethan saw her through the interior window but did not wave.
