Chapter 3
Thomas.
Detective Delaney held out his hand.
“May I?”
The phone buzzed against my palm like a trapped insect.
I gave it to him.
He answered and put it on speaker.
“Mom?” Thomas’s voice came through thin and sharp.
Detective Delaney didn’t speak.
“Mom, are you there?”
Still silence.
Then Thomas inhaled.
“Who is this?”
Detective Delaney finally answered.
“This is Detective Mark Delaney with Columbus Police. Thomas Russell, where are you?”
The line went quiet.
Not dead.
Quiet.
I could hear wind. A car engine. A faint clicking sound, like a turn signal.
“Thomas,” I said, unable to stop myself. “Where is Mason’s mother?”
There was a long pause.
Then my son laughed.
It was not a normal laugh.
It was hollow and frightened.
“You still think this is about Ellie?” he said.
The detective straightened.
“What does that mean, Thomas?”
But my son kept talking as if the detective had not spoken.
“Mom, listen to me. Don’t let them take Mason anywhere alone. Don’t let anyone from the hospital touch him unless you’re watching.”
My skin prickled.
“Thomas, what are you talking about?”
“They don’t understand,” he said. “They never understand until it’s too late.”
“Who doesn’t?”
His breathing grew ragged.
“Ellie said he was wrong,” Thomas whispered. “She said Mason wasn’t right. At first I thought it was postpartum stuff. Depression. Anxiety. Whatever they call it. She wouldn’t sleep. She kept saying the baby knew things.”
Detective Delaney’s eyes narrowed.
“What things?”
Thomas didn’t answer him.
“Mom,” he said, voice breaking, “I didn’t do that to Mason.”
The room went silent.
My mouth went dry.
“Then who did?” I asked.
The answer came like a stone dropped into a well.
“Ellie.”
Detective Delaney made a quick gesture to another officer, who immediately stepped into the hall.
“Where is Ellie now?” the detective demanded.
Thomas let out a sound that was almost a sob.
“I don’t know.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m trying to find her.”
“Thomas, you need to come to the hospital.”
“No,” he said sharply. “No. You don’t understand. She’ll come there.”
“Why would she come here?”
Another pause.
Then he said, “Because Mason is there.”
The call ended.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then the ER erupted into motion.
Detective Delaney barked orders. Security was called. The nurses’ station locked down access to the pediatric wing. A police officer was posted outside Mason’s room. Another stood near the hallway entrance, one hand resting near his belt.
I sat beside Mason’s bed while my heart beat so loudly I could hear it.
Ellie.
Sweet, soft-spoken Ellie with her pale blonde hair and careful smile.
Ellie, who sent handwritten thank-you cards.
Ellie, who arranged Mason’s tiny socks by color.
Ellie, who once told me she wanted a large family because she had always felt lonely as an only child.
I tried to fit Thomas’s words around the image of her.
They would not hold.
A little after six, Detective Delaney returned.
“We found the apartment empty,” he said.
My stomach twisted.
“Both cars?”
“Your son’s car is gone. Ellie’s car is in the garage.”
“Then how did she leave?”
“We’re checking rideshare records and cameras.”
He sat across from me.
“There’s something else.”
I looked at Mason, afraid the words themselves might hurt him.
“What?”
“In the nursery, officers found several baby monitors. More than normal.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
I frowned. “Six?”
“Hidden in stuffed animals, on shelves, inside a vent cover. There were cameras in every room except the bathroom.”
May you like
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No,” the detective said. “It doesn’t.”
