Chương 11
“You may find accuracy more complicated than anger.”
Ethan leaned back.
“Did Daniel save any lives?”
“We do not know.”
“Did he warn Malik?”
“We do not know.”
“Did he care that another man was buried under his name?”
Delgado’s expression did not change.
“That question is probably not answered by records.”
Claire asked whether Daniel had contacted anyone else.
“He called a former coworker in Baltimore,” Delgado said. “He asked about transportation and false identification. The coworker refused and reported it.”
“Where is he now?”
“The call moved through several services. We have an area, not a location.”
“How close?” Ethan asked.
Delgado hesitated.
“Within fifty miles.”
Claire looked toward the crib.
Delgado followed her gaze.
“We can arrange another placement for Nora.”
“No,” Claire said.
“That would reduce pressure on this house.”
“No.”
“Claire,” Ethan said.
She turned on him. “You want her taken?”
“I want her safe.”
“With strangers?”
“With people Daniel doesn’t know.”
“He knows the county. He knows Maya. Moving her doesn’t make her disappear.”
Delgado said, “No decision has to be made this minute.”
Claire lifted Nora from the crib and held her close.
The room had shifted. Ethan saw it happen in the way Delgado watched Claire—not as a witness now, but as a caregiver whose fear might influence judgment.
After Delgado left, Ethan said, “You cannot act like Nora belongs to you.”
Claire remained beside the window.
“I know she doesn’t.”
“You just refused a safety plan without asking anyone.”
“She is not luggage.”
“No one said she was.”
“You said move her.”
“I said consider it.”
“You said it in front of someone who can take her.”
“Because someone may come here to take her.”
Claire turned around.
“Then stay.”
Ethan had not realized leaving was visible on his face.
“Where would I go?”
“Your mother’s. A hotel. Back to your unit. Anywhere you don’t have to look at me.”
“I’m not leaving tonight.”
“That is not what I said.”
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to stop standing halfway out of the room.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“You lied to me for six months.”
“Yes.”
“My brother used you, and you let him.”
“Yes.”
“You put yourself at risk. You put our house at risk. You may have put Nora at risk.”
“Yes.”
“And every time I get angry, you look at me like anger proves I’m leaving.”
Claire’s eyes filled, but she did not lower them.
“Because everyone leaves at the point where they become difficult to love.”
“That sounds like something Leah said.”
“It is something I said.”
Ethan took his keys from the table.
Claire’s face closed.
“I’m buying groceries,” he said. “There’s no food.”
He left before either of them could turn the sentence into more.
At the supermarket, Ethan stood in the baby aisle for fifteen minutes staring at formula labels.
Claire had texted the brand, size, and type. He still could not find it.
A store employee half his age approached.
“You need help, sir?”
Ethan showed him the phone.
The employee reached to the second shelf and handed him the correct container.
“It was in front of me,” Ethan said.
“Happens.”
Ethan put four containers in the cart.
At checkout, the cashier asked whether the baby was sleeping through the night.
“No,” Ethan said.
“Mine didn’t for a year.”
Ethan almost explained that Nora was not his.
Instead he paid.
In the parking lot, he found a folded note beneath his windshield wiper.
The paper contained six words.
You always did follow the rules.
No signature.
Ethan looked across the rows of cars.
A sedan pulled out near the far entrance. A man in a cap sat behind the wheel, but distance and glass made the face unreadable.
Ethan called Delgado before touching the note.
She told him to remain near the store entrance. Local police arrived twelve minutes later. Cameras showed several people walking near the truck, but no clear image of whoever placed the paper.
When Ethan returned home, Claire saw the police car behind him and came outside carrying Nora.
“What happened?”
He held up the evidence bag containing the note.
Claire read the words through the plastic.
“He was there.”
“Maybe.”
“That is how Daniel talks.”
“You spoke to him twice.”
“I listened to Leah for six months.”
Nora began to cry. Claire bounced gently, eyes still fixed on the note.
“He knows you reported him.”
“He assumed I would.”
“He knows you’re here.”
“He already knew.”
“Ethan, he was close enough to touch your truck.”
“I understand.”
“Stop saying that.”
He nearly laughed at hearing his own complaint returned to him.
Instead he carried the groceries inside.
That evening, Delgado called with instructions. A patrol car would pass periodically. Ethan should vary routines, keep exterior lights on, and report unfamiliar vehicles.
Claire taped a sheet of brown paper over the narrow window beside the front door.
Ethan watched her smooth the tape.
“You used to hate when people blocked windows.”
“I used to think privacy film looked cheap.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know.”
He waited.
Claire finished the last corner and stepped back.
“I liked being able to see who was coming,” she said.
At ten, Ethan’s mother arrived from Ohio without warning.
She entered carrying a suitcase and a covered dish.
“I brought chicken,” she announced, then saw Nora in Claire’s arms.
The suitcase tipped against her leg.
“Oh.”
Claire did not move.
Ethan’s mother set the dish on the floor.
“May I?”
Claire looked at Ethan.
He hated being placed between them.
“This is Nora,” he said.
His mother approached slowly. She had Daniel’s eyes, which meant she had Ethan’s too.
“Hello, Nora.”
The baby slept.
“Is she his?”
“We don’t know for certain.”
“She has his mouth.”
“All babies have that mouth, Mom.”
“No, that little dip.”
Ethan looked. He could not see it.
Claire asked, “Would you like to hold her?”
May you like
His mother’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
