Chapter 2 - HE CAME HOME TWO DAYS EARLY
Ethan’s first impulse was to demand answers.
His second was to remember Sophie was eight.
He chose the second.
That decision changed the rest of the day.
He crouched beside her.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
Sophie did.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Anywhere?”
“No.”
“Can you breathe okay?”
“Yes.”
“Did Vanessa hold you there?”
“No.”
She sniffed.
“Just pushed me, then pulled me back.”
Ethan swallowed.
The precision of the answer disturbed him.
Children inventing dramatic stories often add.
Sophie was subtracting.
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Ethan, please.”
He looked up.
“Stay there.”
Her face tightened.
“I would never hurt her.”
“You just called her a liar.”
“Because she is confused.”
Sophie buried herself against Ethan’s shoulder.
Vanessa continued.
“She’s had nightmares about Laura for years.”
“Not like this.”
“You’re never here during the worst of it.”
The accusation landed because some part of it was true.
Ethan traveled too much.
New York.
San Francisco.
Denver.
Projects.
Meetings.
He had told himself a beautiful house, excellent school and a loving wife meant Sophie was protected when he left.
Vanessa saw guilt enter his expression.
She used it immediately.
“You know what grief did to her.”
Ethan stared.
Vanessa softened.
“She asks questions about Laura constantly. Sometimes she says she sees her.”
Sophie pulled away.
“No, I don’t.”
Vanessa ignored her.
“She’s been acting out.”
“I don’t act out!”
“Sophie.”
Ethan kept his voice calm.
“Let me talk.”
Sophie nodded.
Ethan turned back to Vanessa.
“You pushed her toward that trash can?”
“No.”
Sophie whispered:
“Yes.”
Vanessa began crying again.
Real tears this time, perhaps from fear.
“She was having a tantrum.”
“I wasn’t!”
“Sophie.”
Ethan squeezed her hand.
“Daddy hears you.”
Those three words quieted her.
Vanessa heard them too.
Something in her eyes hardened.
Ethan asked:
“Did you touch her?”
Vanessa paused.
A fraction too long.
“I took her by the shoulder.”
“Why?”
“To calm her.”
“And the trash bin?”
“She pulled away and leaned over it.”
Sophie shook her head fiercely.
“No.”
Ethan did not tell either one what he believed.
He stood.
“Vanessa, go upstairs.”
Her mouth opened.
“Now.”
“This is my house too.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t order me—”
“Go upstairs so I can speak to my daughter alone.”
Vanessa looked at Sophie.
That look lasted perhaps half a second.
But Sophie stepped behind Ethan.
He saw it.
Vanessa saw him see it.
She left.
The moment her footsteps disappeared, Sophie began crying harder.
Ethan carried her to the breakfast nook.
He found paper towels, wiped her cheeks and poured water.
He did not ask, What else did she do?
He wanted to.
Instead:
“You can tell me anything you want to tell me.”
Sophie stared at the water.
“Will she come back?”
“Vanessa?”
Sophie nodded.
“Not while we’re talking.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
Ethan almost added, She’ll never hurt you again.
He stopped.
That was a promise no parent could guarantee absolutely.
Instead:
“I will listen.”
Sophie looked at him.
“Even if she says I’m lying?”
“Yes.”
That mattered more.
Sophie took a sip.
Ethan touched the old photograph on the island.
“Tell me about Mommy.”
Sophie hesitated.
“Vanessa said not to.”
“Vanessa isn’t in charge of what you can tell me.”
Sophie looked toward the stairs.
Then whispered:
“Mommy came in the white car.”
“When?”
“Lots.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan slowed himself.
He did not want to interrogate her.
“Was it more than once?”
“Yes.”
“Did you talk to her?”
Sophie nodded.
“Where?”
“Sometimes here.”
“In the house?”
“Yes.”
“Who let her in?”
Sophie looked at him.
“Vanessa.”
His stomach dropped.
He stood and walked toward the kitchen sink simply because he needed somewhere to put his hands.
Laura.
Inside his house.
While he was gone.
Vanessa opening the door.
Sophie keeping the secret.
For how long?
Ethan turned.
“What did Mommy say?”
Sophie frowned.
“That she loved me.”
Anything else?
He stopped himself from asking.
Sophie volunteered:
“She cried.”
Ethan’s throat tightened.
“Why?”
“She said she was sorry.”
“For what?”
Sophie shrugged.
“She said grown-up things got very mixed up.”
That sentence did not sound like Vanessa.
It sounded like Laura.
Ethan sat again.
“Did Mommy ever ask you to hide from me?”
Sophie thought carefully.
“She said Daddy can’t know yet.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Sophie looked toward the staircase.
“Vanessa.”
Ethan’s hand tightened around the edge of the table.
“What did Vanessa say?”
“If I tell you…”
Sophie swallowed.
“…Mommy goes away forever.”
Ethan looked away.
Anger rose so fast he felt dizzy.
He forced it down.
Sophie needed calm, not vengeance.
His phone vibrated.
Private investigator: Miles Carver.
Ethan had hired him six weeks earlier after an old insurance file contained a discrepancy involving Laura’s accident.
Miles had called yesterday.
I FOUND SOMEONE.
They met that morning in Manhattan.
Miles gave Ethan the old photograph and address.
Ethan had planned to confront no one until he verified.
Then his meeting canceled.
Then he came home.
Now Sophie had independently confirmed the impossible.
His phone buzzed again.
MILES:
I pulled historical records on Vanessa Reed.
Call me before you confront her.
Ethan stared.
Another message appeared.
YOU’RE NOT GOING TO LIKE THIS.
Ethan looked toward the stairs.
He had believed Vanessa and Laura barely knew each other.
According to Vanessa, they had met perhaps twice.
May you like
According to the message Miles sent next—
they had once shared an apartment.
