Chương 2
“We don’t know.”
Natalie’s fingers tightened around her phone.
The screen showed twenty-three missed calls. Nine from Evelyn. Seven from Vanessa. Four from the hospital. Two from the airline. One from her boss, who had written beneath it: Do not think about work. Stay with him.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“We keep warming him gradually,” Dr. Rowan said. “We monitor his heart, kidneys, lungs, neurological responses. His vital signs are stable. Stable does not mean we know everything yet, but it is good.”
“Will he wake up?”
“We expect him to. I won’t promise when.”
Natalie nodded because the alternative was falling.
Rourke lowered the evidence bag. “There are inconsistencies in what your mother and sister told officers. We need to ask you questions, but not this minute.”
“Ask.”
“You’ve been awake all night.”
“Ask.”
Dr. Rowan touched Natalie’s arm, lightly enough that Natalie could pretend it had not happened. “Sit first.”
There were molded chairs along the opposite wall. Natalie sat in the nearest one. Her ivory coat gathered stiffly around her. She removed one white leather glove and then the other, placing them across her knees with absurd care. Her hands looked older than they had on Thursday morning.
Rourke sat two chairs away, leaving an empty seat between them.
“When did you last see Eli?”
“Thursday at seven-fifteen in the morning. I took him to my mother’s house before my flight.”
“Was he supposed to stay there until today?”
“Yes. I was supposed to land at nine this morning.”
“Did anyone else have permission to care for him?”
“My mother. Vanessa was not supposed to be there overnight.”
Rourke’s eyes shifted almost imperceptibly.
“Why not?”
Natalie watched a hospital custodian guide a wide floor machine around the corner. The man slowed when he saw the ICU window, then lowered his gaze and continued.
“My sister is unreliable.”
“That can mean a lot of things.”
“She has had financial problems. She lies when she’s embarrassed. She makes impulsive decisions and expects our mother to fix them.”
“Has she ever hurt Eli?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly. Natalie disliked how much relief it seemed to give her, as though a clean answer in the past could repair the present.
“She loves him,” Natalie added.
Rourke did not write that down.
“What was your relationship with your mother before this?”
“Complicated.”
“That can also mean a lot of things.”
“She believes access is the same thing as love.”
Dr. Rowan moved back toward the ICU door as a nurse approached with a chart. Natalie watched them exchange a few words she could not hear.
Rourke said, “Your mother reported that she put Eli to bed shortly after eight. She says she checked on him at eleven-thirty and again around two. At four-twenty, she found his bed empty and the back door open. She says she and Vanessa searched the yard, then called emergency services.”
“What does Vanessa say?”
“That she arrived shortly before four because your mother called her for help.”
Natalie turned her face toward him.
“She was already there.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The dinosaur.”
Rourke waited.
“Vanessa bought it for Eli. He calls it Moss. She knows exactly what it looks like. But that wasn’t recognition. She was afraid of where you found it.”
“That’s my impression too.”
“Did she have mud on her?”
“I can’t discuss all the evidence.”
“Her boots were clean.”
“She may have changed them.”
Natalie pressed her fingertips against her eyelids. Light burst red behind them.
On Thursday morning, Eli had stood in Evelyn’s front hallway wearing a navy sweater and carrying Moss under one arm. He had asked Natalie three times whether she would be home before his Saturday pancake breakfast. She had said yes. He had asked whether the conference was important. She had said important enough.
Evelyn had laughed from the kitchen. “Your mother enjoys making things sound grand.”
Natalie had ignored it. She had crouched, kissed Eli’s cheek, and told him he could call anytime.
He had whispered, “Grandma says not during dinner.”
“Call anyway.”
“Even if she does the eyebrow?”
“Especially then.”
He had smiled.
Natalie had walked out through the polished front door while he stood beside Evelyn’s brass umbrella stand, one hand raised.
The memory arrived whole, unwanted and brutally ordinary.
“Why did I leave him there?” she said.
Rourke did not answer. Perhaps because he knew it was not a question for him.
Dr. Rowan returned. “We’re reducing one of the sedating medications. He may show more movement soon. You can go in, but only you.”
Natalie stood so fast the conference badge struck her blouse.
Rourke rose too. “I’ll be nearby.”
“What will you do with them?”
“Interview them separately.”
“My mother won’t allow that.”
The detective’s mouth moved at one corner, not quite a smile. “Your mother has overestimated the number of things she gets to allow today.”
Inside the ICU room, the air felt warmer and drier than the corridor. Machines surrounded Eli without seeming to belong to him. A nurse explained each line in a calm, low voice. Natalie understood almost none of it, though she thanked her.
She sat beside the bed and took Eli’s hand.
His fingers were cool but not cold. There was dirt beneath one thumbnail that cleaning had missed. She stared at it until the nurse brought a warm cloth, then stopped the nurse before she could wipe it away.
“Wait.”
The dirt felt like evidence that he had still belonged to the world while she had been thirty thousand feet above it.
Natalie bent over his hand.
“I’m here,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m here.”
May you like
His eyelids did not move.
She stayed beside him through the morning. The hospital gave her coffee she forgot to drink and a toothbrush in a plastic wrapper. Dr. Rowan returned twice, each time with cautious language and small pieces of improvement. Eli’s temperature reached a safer range. His blood work was less concerning than expected. He reacted when a nurse pressed his fingernail.
