“Yes.”
“Has he had access to the home?”
My mouth went dry.
Mark was the one who had helped install the baby monitor when Emma was born. Mark had known every code to the house, every spare key location, every place I hid things because I had spent my whole life trusting him.
“Mark?” I said.
His eyes went to the camera in Detective Ramirez’s hand.
Then he dropped the grocery bag.
An apple rolled across the floor and struck the leg of the dining table.
“No,” he said.
It was barely a word.
Officer Carter took him aside while Detective Ramirez asked him where he had been eleven months earlier. Mark answered too fast at first, then stopped answering at all. His hands were shaking. He kept pressing his thumb against the side of his wedding ring, though his wife had left him years ago.
Vanessa watched him with an expression I could not read.
Then Detective Ramirez’s phone rang.
She stepped away to answer it. I heard only fragments.
“Location confirmed.”
“Yes, issue the alert.”
“No, he is not at the registered office.”
She returned, and the controlled calm in her face had hardened.
“Dr. Vale’s practice address is empty. His license is fraudulent. We have reason to believe he has used several names. His vehicle was seen less than an hour ago at the old St. Agnes rehabilitation building off Route Nine.”
Emma’s head lifted.
“The blue house,” she said.
Every adult in the room turned toward her.
“What blue house?” I asked.
“The blue house where Mommy went.”
Rain whispered against the windows. Somewhere behind me, the refrigerator hummed.
Claire had died in a car accident on Route Nine.
That was what the police report said. Her sedan had left the road on a wet curve at night and struck a concrete barrier. There were no other vehicles found at the scene. Her blood alcohol level had been zero. The road was slick. The case had been closed before I learned how to sleep again.
“The blue house,” Emma repeated. “Mommy said don’t tell Daddy because he would be sad.”
A sound escaped Vanessa. She brought both hands to her mouth.
Detective Ramirez crouched in front of Emma, keeping a careful distance. “Did your mommy take you there?”
Emma nodded.
“Did she meet someone?”
“The quiet-shoe man. He made Mommy cry.”
“Was anyone else there?”
Emma stared at Mark.
He stared back at her, horrified.
“Uncle Mark was in the car,” she said.
Mark staggered backward until his shoulder struck the wall.
“I didn’t know,” he said.
The detective rose. “What didn’t you know?”
