Chapter 6
Emily stopped breathing for a second.
“No.”
She grabbed the papers from my hand.
“No. Rachel wouldn’t.”
Her finger moved down the page.
The statement claimed Rachel had witnessed Emily become “emotionally unstable” during pregnancy.
It said Emily once screamed that she regretted having a baby.
It said Emily had stopped taking prescribed medication.
It said Rachel feared Noah could be neglected.
Emily shook her head harder with every line.
“This is fake.”
I looked at the signature.
“Is that Rachel’s signature?”
“It looks like it.”
My stomach dropped.
Emily immediately called her sister.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
A third time.
Voicemail.
Emily’s hands began shaking.
“Why isn’t she answering?”
“Maybe she’s driving.”
“She knew we were coming.”
I looked at the officer.
“Can someone verify whether this petition was actually filed?”
He couldn’t do it from our living room, but he advised us to contact an attorney immediately and not assume every paper in the envelope was authentic.
That gave me one small piece of hope.
Richard had delivered them himself or arranged delivery.
Maybe he wanted us to panic.
Maybe nothing had been filed.
I called a lawyer I knew through work.
Her name was Sarah Mitchell.
She handled commercial cases, not family law, but she answered immediately when I said it was an emergency.
After listening, she said one thing.
“Do not give your mother the baby.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. Do not sign anything. Photograph every page. Keep every message. And send me the documents.”
I did.
She called back ten minutes later.
“These papers are strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“The formatting is close to a court filing, but I don’t see a case number.”
Emily looked at me.
“So it could be fake?”
“Possibly.”
Sarah continued.
“There’s also no clerk stamp.”
I finally breathed.
“But?”
I knew there was a but.
“But the language suggests someone is preparing a real filing.”
My relief disappeared.
“Can they take Noah?”
“Not because your mother is angry. Courts need evidence. And if the evidence was manufactured or illegally obtained, that creates serious problems for whoever submitted it.”
Emily whispered, “What about my sister’s statement?”
“Call her. Ask her directly.”
We tried again.
Nothing.
Sarah then told us to leave the house if Emily felt unsafe and go somewhere Linda could not easily access.
That eliminated Rachel’s place.
Until we knew why her name was on that document, we couldn’t risk it.
We went to a hotel instead.
I hated it.
Linda knew which hotels I used for work.
But Sarah advised us to choose one in a different suburb and not tell anyone.
We drove in silence.
Noah slept in the back seat.
Emily stared out the window.
Finally, she said, “Do you believe Rachel?”
I knew what she meant.
“Do I believe that statement?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I don’t need to.”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because it says you stopped taking medication during pregnancy.”
She nodded.
“And?”
“You told me your doctor took you off it before we started trying.”
Her eyes filled.
I remembered.
That mattered.
Not because I was proving her innocence.
Because I had listened.
At least that time.
“And it says you screamed that you regretted having Noah,” I continued.
“You never said that to me.”
“I did say something close.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“After that terrible night in the hospital.”
I waited.
She looked ashamed.
“Noah wouldn’t stop crying. I hadn’t slept. I told Rachel, ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know.”
“Being exhausted is not regretting your child.”
“But somebody changed it.”
That was the real problem.
Someone knew enough about Emily’s private conversations to twist them.
“Did Rachel tell Mom?”
“I don’t know.”
We reached the hotel.
I booked under my middle name.
Maybe that was unnecessary.
At that point, I didn’t care.
Inside the room, Emily sat on the bed and fed Noah again.
I ordered food.
Real food.
Soup.
Chicken.
Bread.
Fruit.
When it arrived, Emily stared at it.
“What?”
“I’m not that hungry.”
I sat beside her.
“You ate toast today.”
She looked away.
“Please eat.”
Her lips trembled.
“Your mother used to watch me.”
I froze.
“What?”
“When I ate.”
“Why?”
“She said I needed to lose the baby weight.”
Rage rose so fast I had to stand.
“She said what?”
Emily flinched.
I lowered my voice immediately.
“Sorry.”
“She kept telling me you liked me smaller.”
“I never said that.”
“I know.”
“Did she say I said it?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course she did.
Emily picked up a spoon.
She forced herself to take a bite.
Then another.
I sat quietly.
After half the soup was gone, she started crying.
I moved closer.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Emily.”
“She told me if I kept eating like this, you would start looking at women at work.”
I put my arm around her.
“I’m so sorry.”
“She knew exactly what to say.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“You don’t.”
Her voice wasn’t cruel.
Just tired.
“She didn’t shout most of the time. That would have been easier.”
I listened.
“She whispered.”
My stomach turned.
“She waited until I was exhausted. She’d say one thing. Then an hour later, another.”
Emily stared down at Noah.
“She told me you thought I was a burden.”
“I don’t.”
“She told me your brothers hated me.”
“They don’t.”
“She told me your dad would have hated Noah’s name.”
“That’s not true.”
“I know.”
She wiped her face.
“But after hearing things every day…”
“You started wondering.”
“Yes.”
I pulled her closer.
“I should have protected you.”
She shook her head.
“You should have believed me.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
That distinction mattered.
The phone rang.
Rachel.
Emily grabbed it.
“Rachel?”
Her sister was crying.
“Where are you?”
Emily stood.
“Where are you?”
“I’m at home.”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“My phone was in the car.”
Emily shut her eyes.
Then she said, “Did you sign a statement for Linda?”
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
“Rachel?”
Her sister started sobbing.
“I’m sorry.”
Emily’s face broke.
“You did?”
“I didn’t know what it was.”
“What did you think it was?”
“She said it was for a therapist.”
I stared at the phone.
Emily whispered, “What?”
Rachel spoke quickly.
“Linda came over two weeks ago.”
My hands went cold.
“She asked me questions about you.”
“What questions?”
“About your anxiety. Pregnancy. Whether you were sleeping.”
“And you answered?”
“I thought she was worried.”
Emily sat down.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“She said you didn’t want anyone knowing.”
Emily laughed through tears.
“So you trusted her instead of me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What did you sign?”
“She gave me a page.”
“Did you read it?”
“No.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“Rachel.”
“I know.”
“What did she tell you it was?”
“She said a therapist needed confirmation from family that you had support.”
My jaw tightened.
“And you signed a blank page?”
“Not blank. There were questions.”
“Do you remember them?” I asked.
Rachel paused.
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What questions?”
She thought.
“One asked if Emily had ever expressed fear about motherhood.”
Emily looked at me.
“One asked whether she had difficulty sleeping.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
She had a newborn.
“One asked whether she ever cried unexpectedly.”
Emily whispered, “Everybody cries after having a baby.”
Rachel sobbed.
“I know.”
Then I asked the question that mattered.
“Did you say Emily was dangerous?”
“No.”
“Did you say she neglected Noah?”
“No!”
“Did you say she regretted having him?”
“Absolutely not.”
I looked at Emily.
The statement had been altered.
Maybe rewritten completely.
“Rachel,” I said, “we need you to write down exactly what happened while you remember it.”
“I will.”
“And do not talk to Linda.”
“I already did.”
My heart sank.
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
Emily stood.
“What did she say?”
Rachel hesitated.
“She asked where you were.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“She already knew you weren’t home.”
I felt cold.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Rachel said something worse.
“She told me not to worry because Richard had found you.”
I turned toward the hotel door.
Emily saw my face.
“What?”
I walked to the curtains and looked outside.
Cars.
Parking lot.
Nothing obvious.
“How could he find us?”
Maybe the hotel.
Maybe my car.
Maybe a credit card.
Then my phone buzzed.
A photo message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
It was a picture of our car.
Taken less than five minutes earlier.
Parked outside the hotel.
Under it were six words.
You cannot hide Noah from family.
May you like
Emily stared at the screen.
Then someone knocked on our hotel room door.
