Chapter 3 - The Parking Garage
I stared at the photograph until the edges blurred.
“That isn’t proof.”
My voice sounded weak even to me.
Detective Sloan did not argue.
“No.
It isn’t.”
“Mark could have been checking something.”
“He told investigators he had not seen Ethan that day.”
That silenced me.
Ethan had died after his SUV left the highway outside Boise.
The police had initially described it as a single-vehicle accident.
There had been rain.
The road had been slick.
Everyone had told me it was terrible luck.
Now I remembered Mark standing beside me at the funeral.
Crying.
Holding my shoulder.
Telling me he wished he had seen Ethan one last time.
“He lied.”
“Yes,” Sloan said.
I looked at Margaret.
“Did Ethan know Mark had been near his car?”
“We don’t know.”
She opened Ethan’s letter to the second page.
Near the bottom, Ethan had written another warning.
If something happens to me before the twins are born, ask Margaret about Garage File Seven.
“What is Garage File Seven?”
Margaret shook her head.
“That is the problem.”
“You don’t know?”
“He never gave it to me.”
My frustration exploded.
“So my husband leaves behind a warning that he might be killed, names a file, and no one knows where it is?”
Margaret stayed calm.
“He was frightened.”
“Ethan wasn’t frightened of anything.”
“He was frightened of leaving you alone.”
That stopped me.
I turned toward the window.
Boise looked gray beneath the afternoon clouds.
Four days ago, Ethan had kissed my forehead before leaving our house.
He had told me he needed to meet someone.
I had complained because dinner was getting cold.
He smiled.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
Those were the last words my husband ever said to me.
I suddenly remembered something else.
Before he left, he had stood in the nursery doorway for nearly a minute.
Just watching the two empty cribs.
At the time, I thought he was emotional about becoming a father.
Now I wondered whether he had known he might never see them occupied.
The door opened.
My babies returned.
The nurse wheeled them beside me.
Noah was sleeping.
Lily was awake, staring upward with unfocused newborn eyes.
I reached for them.
“They’re both healthy,” the nurse said.
I nearly cried with relief.
Detective Sloan stepped outside to speak with another officer.
Margaret leaned close.
“There is something else you need to know before your family is released.”
“Released?”
“We cannot hold them indefinitely based only on what happened here.”
My chest tightened.
“They tried to take Noah.”
“And the detective is documenting it.”
Margaret lowered her voice.
“But your father’s attorney already claims this was a misunderstanding involving temporary caregiving.”
I almost laughed.
“They demanded I sign papers.”
“I know.”
“So what happens?”
“We protect you legally tonight.”
Margaret handed me a court petition.
Emergency protective order.
Temporary exclusion from residence.
Restriction against removing the twins.
“I can file this immediately.”
“Do it.”
She nodded.
Then she hesitated.
“What?”
“Your father has already filed something of his own.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“A petition questioning your competency.”
I stared at her.
“He filed it when?”
“Yesterday morning.”
I could hardly understand the words.
Yesterday I had still been pregnant.
Still attending my husband’s funeral arrangements.
Still crying so hard I could barely stand.
Dad had been in court.
“He claims your grief makes you mentally unstable and incapable of managing Ethan’s estate.”
Margaret turned another page.
“He also claims you have shown signs of severe emotional instability during pregnancy.”
“Based on what?”
“A sworn statement.”
“From who?”
Margaret looked at me.
Then she gave me the page.
The signature at the bottom was unmistakable.
May you like
My mother.
*
