Chapter 2
At the emergency department, Wren finally fell asleep against Claire's arm.
That should have comforted her. Instead, Claire watched the rise and fall of the baby's chest so intently that the pediatric physician pulled up a chair beside her.
"I want to explain what we're watching for," Dr. Patel said. "Exposure to contaminated water, any sign of aspiration, changes in breathing, and evidence of injury. She looks stable right now, but we won't guess about what we didn't see."
Claire nodded. The doctor had examined Wren carefully and arranged observation and follow-up. He had also asked the uncomfortable questions without treating Claire as though she were on trial.
"Did anyone tell you exactly what happened?" he asked.
"My mother-in-law said I was supposed to be asleep."
Dr. Patel paused with his pen above the chart. "Please tell the investigator that exact sentence."
Claire was still repeating it in her head when Ethan arrived.
He came through the curtain wearing his blue work jacket, his dark hair flattened where he'd been running a hand through it. At thirty-four, he had the open, earnest face that once made Claire believe he couldn't conceal a thought.
"My God." He crossed to the bassinet. "Is she all right?"
"They're checking her."
He brushed Wren's blanket with one finger. Only then did he look at Claire. "Mom says you had a terrible shock."
Claire waited for the question she expected: What did Mom do?
Instead he asked, "Did you call the police?"
"Yes."
She waited for his hand to reach hers. In the past, even after a quarrel, Ethan would squeeze her fingers beneath a restaurant table as if the gesture could make every disagreement temporary. Here he stood between her and their daughter's bassinet, looking less at the child than at the chart clipped to the bed. Claire noticed he had not asked whether she was hurt, although he knew she had climbed into a frightening scene and carried Wren out alone. She had never before counted the questions a husband failed to ask.
Ethan shut his eyes briefly. "Claire."
She had heard that tone when she returned an unwanted gift, when she corrected Margaret at dinner, when she told her husband his mother couldn't have a nursery key. A small disappointed exhale, as though Claire had failed another test of reasonableness.
"Our baby was in a toilet," she said.
"I know what Mom told me."
"What did she tell you?"
He glanced toward the curtain. "That she heard crying, came in, and found you acting confused."
Claire stared at him. "She was holding a plunger."
"She said she was trying to help."
"Help whom?"
His silence lasted just long enough to become an answer.
Claire reached for the hospital-issued bag containing Wren's wet gray blanket. A nurse had sealed it separately and noted where it had come from. On the edge of the fabric, beside an embroidered moon, was a narrow rust-colored mark Claire did not remember seeing before.
"That blanket was in the crib when I fell asleep," she said.
Ethan looked at it and immediately away.
"You were exhausted. You said you couldn't remember making breakfast yesterday."
Claire remembered that conversation. She had joked that she'd poured cereal into her coffee mug. Ethan had not laughed.
"I forgot cereal," she said. "I didn't forget putting my child in a toilet."
A hospital social worker entered with a police investigator, Detective Imani Brooks. Brooks explained that the emergency department had made a report because an infant had been placed in immediate danger. They would document the medical findings and speak to everyone involved.
"The purpose right now is to establish safety and facts," Brooks said.
Ethan straightened. "My mother would never hurt a baby."
"Then her account will help us," Brooks replied.
Claire found herself looking at her husband's hands. They were clasped so tightly that the knuckles were pale.
She recounted the moment in the bathroom, including Margaret's words. Brooks wrote carefully. When Claire mentioned the plunger striking the tile, the detective asked whether anything else had made that sound recently.
Claire nearly said no.
Then she remembered a hollow tapping noise two nights earlier, while she had been feeding Wren in the dark. She'd assumed a pipe was knocking behind the bathroom wall. When she'd asked Ethan, he'd said the house was settling.
"Maybe," Claire said slowly, "it wasn't the pipes."
Brooks asked her to write down the memory while it was fresh.
When the detective left, Ethan moved closer. "We should handle this privately after they release Wren. Mom's frightened. You're frightened."
"I'm taking Wren somewhere safe."
"Home is safe."
Claire glanced at the gray blanket in the sealed bag.
"Then why did your mother say I was supposed to be asleep?"
Ethan opened his mouth. For the first time since their wedding, he had no ready reassurance.
May you like
His phone vibrated on the bed. A message lit up the screen before he turned it over.
Mom: Did she tell them about Tuesday?
