Chapter 2
For several seconds, no one moved.
Our son cried against my chest.
Emily leaned against the counter as though standing required every ounce of strength she had left.
My mother stared at the hallway.
Not at me.
Not at Emily.
At the bedroom.
“Where is the camera?” I asked.
Emily swallowed.
“In the smoke detector.”
Linda immediately laughed.
It was too loud.
Too quick.
“She is imagining things.”
Emily’s face collapsed.
“I am not.”
“You have barely slept in a month,” Linda said. “You’ve been talking to yourself. Forgetting things. Crying for no reason.”
“Because you keep waking me!”
“I came here to help you.”
“You came here after Daniel left every morning.”
Linda looked at me.
“Your wife needs a doctor.”
I tightened my hold around our baby.
“No one is going anywhere until I see that camera.”
Linda tried to pull her arm free.
“You are hurting me.”
“I’m barely touching you.”
“You are taking her side without hearing mine.”
“I walked in while you were shoving her head.”
“She was being lazy.”
The words left her mouth before she could stop them.
Emily looked at me.
There was no victory in her expression.
Only fear.
Linda realized what she had admitted.
Her voice softened.
“I did not mean it like that.”
“How did you mean it?”
“She dropped a bottle this morning. She nearly stepped on broken glass while holding Noah.”
“There was no broken glass,” Emily whispered.
Linda glared at her.
“You don’t remember.”
Emily pressed one hand against her temple.
“I remember everything.”
“Then tell Daniel why the bedroom is a disaster.”
“I was looking for the camera.”
“You tore apart the room during one of your episodes.”
“I don’t have episodes.”
Linda turned toward me.
“Do you hear her? She is becoming defensive. This is exactly what Dr. Price warned us about.”
I froze.
“Dr. Price?”
Our family doctor had treated me since I was a teenager.
He had also recommended the obstetrician Emily used during her pregnancy.
“Why were you talking to Dr. Price about my wife?”
Linda’s mouth tightened.
“I was concerned.”
“Did Emily give you permission?”
“She is the mother of my grandson. I don’t need permission to worry.”
“Yes, you do.”
Linda glanced toward the front door.
I saw the calculation in her eyes.
She was deciding whether she could reach it before I stopped her.
I placed Noah carefully in Emily’s arms.
Then I stepped between Linda and the doorway.
“Show me the bedroom.”
“I’m leaving.”
“No.”
“You cannot hold me here.”
“You can wait for the police.”
Emily looked at me sharply.
“Daniel.”
“I’m calling them.”
Linda’s face changed.
The anger disappeared.
In its place came a wounded expression I had seen throughout my childhood.
The face she used when she wanted me to feel cruel.
“After everything I have done for you?”
“This is not about me.”
“I moved into this house because your wife said she needed help.”
“I asked for help,” Emily said. “Not this.”
Linda ignored her.
“I cooked. I cleaned. I changed diapers. I stayed awake while she slept.”
Emily began shaking.
“You never let me sleep.”
Linda pointed at her.
“She is lying again.”
I took out my phone.
Linda moved toward me.
I raised one hand.
“Do not.”
She stopped.
I called 911 and said I had discovered possible domestic abuse and illegal surveillance inside my home.
Linda laughed bitterly.
“Domestic abuse? She is not my spouse.”
“You have been putting your hands on her.”
“I tapped her.”
“You left bruises.”
“She bruises easily.”
Emily stared at the pill bottle in my hand.
“She gave me those.”
Linda’s head snapped toward her.
“I did not.”
“You said they were vitamins.”
“They were.”
“Then why did you tear off the label?”
“I didn’t.”
I opened the bottle.
The pills were small and white.
They had no markings I recognized.
“How many did you take?” I asked.
Emily’s eyes filled with tears.
“One every night.”
“For how long?”
“Since we came home from the hospital.”
My stomach turned.
Twenty-six days.
Linda had been sleeping in our guest room since Noah was born.
She told me she wanted to make our lives easier.
She prepared Emily’s tea.
She organized the medications.
She insisted I return to work because the family business needed me.
Every morning, she smiled and promised she would protect my wife and son.
I had thanked her.
I had kissed Emily goodbye.
Then I had left them alone with her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
Emily looked at the floor.
“She took my phone during the day.”
I stared at Linda.
“She was obsessed with it,” Linda said. “She needed rest.”
“She told me you said I was bothering you at work,” Emily continued.
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
My throat tightened.
Linda had separated us without either of us realizing it.
She told Emily I was tired of her fear.
She told me Emily was sleeping most of the day.
She told each of us a different story.
A perfect wall built from small lies.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Linda looked toward the window.
Then she ran.
She shoved past me and rushed into the hallway.
I followed.
She did not head for the front door.
She ran toward our bedroom.
By the time I reached the room, she was standing on the bed with both hands around the smoke detector.
“Get down!”
She twisted it from the ceiling.
A small black device fell onto the mattress.
Emily had been right.
There was a camera.
Linda grabbed it.
I caught her wrist.
She struck me across the face with her free hand.
The camera dropped.
I reached for it.
She kicked it beneath the dresser.
“You ungrateful little fool!” she screamed.
Two police officers entered the hallway.
“Hands where we can see them!”
Linda immediately began crying.
“My son attacked me!”
I stepped back and raised my hands.
One officer moved between us.
The other guided Linda away from the bed.
“She is trying to destroy a hidden camera,” I said.
Linda pressed a hand against her chest.
“I installed it because I was afraid Emily would harm the baby.”
Emily appeared in the doorway holding Noah.
Her face was pale.
“You watched me undress.”
“I watched my grandson.”
“You watched me nurse him.”
“To make sure you didn’t fall asleep.”
The female officer looked at the camera beneath the dresser.
“Who owns the home?”
“My wife and I do,” I said.
“Did you consent to recording in the bedroom?”
“No.”
“Did your wife?”
Emily shook her head.
The officer put on gloves and retrieved the camera.
Linda’s crying stopped.
“There is nothing on it.”
“You were trying very hard to get it,” the officer said.
“It belongs to me.”
The officer examined the memory-card slot.
It was empty.
Linda smiled.
My heart sank.
She had removed the card already.
The female officer asked where it was.
Linda folded her arms.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Emily suddenly looked toward the nightstand.
“She keeps a silver key on her necklace.”
Everyone turned toward Linda.
Her hand moved instinctively to her chest.
A thin chain disappeared beneath her blouse.
The officer asked her to show it.
Linda refused.
The second officer warned her not to interfere with an investigation.
Linda slowly pulled out the necklace.
A tiny silver key hung from it.
Emily pointed at our closet.
“There’s a locked box behind Daniel’s winter coats.”
I had never seen a box there.
I moved toward the closet.
The officer stopped me and searched instead.
Behind two garment bags sat a narrow metal case.
The silver key opened it.
Inside were four memory cards.
A stack of printed photographs lay beneath them.
The first picture showed Emily asleep in bed with Noah beside her.
The second showed her crying in the bathroom.
The third showed Linda standing over her while she scrubbed the floor.
Several images had dates written across the back.
Some were marked GOOD.
Others were marked TOO OBVIOUS.
The female officer looked at my mother.
“What were you preparing these for?”
Linda said nothing.
Beneath the photographs was a folder.
The cover read:
EMERGENCY CUSTODY EVIDENCE—EMILY CARTER.
My last name was Carter.
Emily and I had been married for four years.
No one had ever questioned her ability to care for a child.
Inside the folder were statements claiming Emily suffered from postpartum psychosis.
There were descriptions of violent incidents that had never happened.
One page said she had threatened to drown Noah in the bathtub.
Another said she had shaken him during a crying episode.
The statements were signed by Linda.
Some were signed by Dr. Raymond Price.
My hands went numb.
The final document was an unfinished petition requesting that my mother receive temporary custody of our newborn.
Linda finally spoke.
“I was protecting him.”
Emily made a broken sound behind me.
I turned.
She was staring down at Noah.
His crying had stopped.
Too suddenly.
His body looked loose in her arms.
“Daniel.”
I rushed toward them.
Noah’s eyes were half-open.
His lips had turned pale.
The officer called for an ambulance.
Emily screamed his name.
I placed him on the bed and rubbed his tiny chest while the dispatcher gave instructions through the officer’s radio.
Linda stood in the corner.
She was no longer crying.
She was watching us.
Watching like she already knew what was happening.
I looked at the pill bottle.
Then at the prepared formula container on the nightstand.
A white powder clung to its rim.
“What did you give my son?” I shouted.
Linda shook her head slowly.
“I never touched him.”
May you like
But Emily looked toward the kitchen.
“She prepares every bottle.”
