Chapter 3
At the hospital, everything moved too quickly and not quickly enough.
Jacob was taken through a set of double doors while a nurse held me back.
"Mom, we need space to treat him."
"I'm not leaving him."
"You can stay nearby, but we need to remove his clothing and assess the burns."
"He gets scared."
"We'll take care of him."
The words should have comforted me.
They didn't.
Nobody had taken care of him.
Not Lena.
Not Daniel.
And, I realized with crushing guilt, not me.
I had hired Lena.
I had trusted my husband.
I had walked out of that house every morning believing my son was safe.
I sat in a plastic chair outside the treatment room and stared at my hands.
There was soup dried across my sleeve.
One of Jacob's tears had darkened the fabric near my shoulder.
A police detective arrived twenty minutes later.
Her name was Detective Monica Reyes.
She looked to be in her forties, with tired eyes that seemed to notice everything.
She sat beside me instead of across from me.
"Mrs. Bennett?"
"Sarah."
"Sarah. I'm Monica Reyes. I need to ask you some questions, but we can stop anytime the doctors need you."
I nodded.
She opened a notebook.
"You said the nanny intentionally poured hot soup on your son."
"Yes."
"What did you see?"
I told her everything.
The slap.
The pot.
Jacob screaming.
Lena trying to strike me.
Daniel in the hallway.
Lena saying I wasn't supposed to be home yet.
Reyes stopped writing.
"Your husband was home?"
"Yes."
"Was he scheduled to be home?"
"No."
"What did he say about why he was there?"
"Nothing."
She watched me.
"Did he appear surprised by what happened?"
I thought about it.
"No."
That word hurt.
Reyes wrote something down.
"Has your son ever said anything concerning about Lena before?"
"No."
Then I stopped.
That wasn't true.
Two weeks earlier, Jacob had cried when I told him Lena would pick him up from school.
He'd said, "Can Grandma come instead?"
I thought he was going through a phase.
Then there was the morning he'd refused breakfast because his stomach hurt.
The bruise on his elbow he'd blamed on the playground.
The nightmare where he'd screamed, "I won't tell."
I had comforted him.
I had never asked what he wouldn't tell.
My throat tightened.
"There were things."
Reyes waited.
"I didn't understand them."
"Tell me."
I did.
Each memory felt like an accusation.
When I finished, Reyes closed her notebook halfway.
"Sarah, I need you to hear something."
I looked at her.
"Children who are being harmed often communicate indirectly. Missing signs doesn't mean you caused the harm."
I couldn't answer.
A doctor came through the doors.
"Mrs. Bennett?"
I stood so fast my knees almost buckled.
"How is he?"
"He's stable."
I nearly collapsed with relief.
The burns covered part of his chest, shoulder, and upper arm. The doctor explained that some areas were superficial and others would require careful follow-up.
"He'll be in pain for a while," she said, "but we don't currently expect permanent functional damage."
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
"Can I see him?"
"In a moment."
She hesitated.
That hesitation terrified me.
"What?"
"During the examination, we found bruising in several stages of healing."
I stared at her.
"Where?"
"Upper arms. Back. One thigh."
"No."
The word came out automatically.
The doctor didn't react.
"We're required to document any injuries that may indicate ongoing abuse."
"Of course."
"We've also contacted the hospital child protection team."
My eyes filled.
"Do whatever you need to do."
A nurse approached Reyes and quietly handed her something.
The detective read it.
Then looked at me.
"Your husband is downstairs."
My entire body stiffened.
"He wants to see Jacob."
"No."
"We can restrict access while we clarify what's happening."
"Please."
Reyes nodded.
"There's something else."
I knew before she spoke that I wasn't going to like it.
"Lena hasn't been located yet."
"She ran."
"We know. Officers searched the immediate area. Her car is still at your home."
"Then where did she go?"
"We don't know."
My phone buzzed.
Daniel.
I rejected the call.
It rang again.
Then again.
Finally a message appeared.
You are making a mistake.
I stared at it.
Another message came.
Do not talk to police without me.
Then:
Think about Jacob.
I showed Reyes.
She photographed the messages.
"Has your husband ever threatened you?"
"No."
"Controlled your finances?"
I hesitated.
"He manages most of our investments."
"Your phone?"
"No."
"Your medication?"
I looked at her.
"What does that have to do with this?"
"I'm asking broad questions."
I thought about the pills on my nightstand.
For the past year, Daniel had insisted I take something for sleep.
Not prescription sleeping pills exactly.
A medication my doctor had originally given me during a stressful period after my father died.
Daniel had been the one reminding me every night.
Sometimes he even brought the pill with a glass of water.
"I take medication sometimes."
"What kind?"
I told her.
She wrote it down.
The nurse came back.
"Jacob is asking for his mother."
I rushed inside.
He looked tiny in the hospital bed.
Bandages covered his upper body.
His face was pale.
A stuffed bear someone had given him rested beside his leg.
"Mommy."
I sat beside him and touched his hair.
"I'm right here."
He grabbed my hand.
"Are we going home?"
The question destroyed me.
I couldn't take him back there.
Not yet.
"Not tonight."
"Is Daddy here?"
"He's downstairs."
Jacob's eyes widened.
I felt his pulse increase beneath my fingers.
"No."
"He won't come in."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
His breathing slowed.
I waited.
Then I said, "Jacob, you told me about your blue backpack."
His eyes moved toward the door.
"It's okay. Daddy can't hear us."
He whispered, "He has cameras."
My heart stopped.
"Who?"
"Daddy."
"Where?"
"In the house."
"How do you know?"
"I saw him."
I glanced through the glass toward Reyes.
She was watching.
I looked back at Jacob.
"What is in the backpack?"
He started crying.
"I didn't steal it."
"I know."
"Daddy said I stole it."
"What did you take?"
"A little black thing."
"What black thing?"
"From his office."
"Why?"
"Because he yelled at Lena."
I swallowed.
"What did he say?"
Jacob pressed his lips together.
Then the words came out.
"He said she had to make me listen."
My stomach twisted.
"What else?"
"He said if I kept telling you things, you'd take me away."
My eyes burned.
"Tell me what things?"
Jacob looked terrified.
"I saw Daddy giving you medicine."
"Daniel gives me my medication sometimes."
Jacob shook his head.
"Not that one."
I stopped breathing.
"What do you mean?"
"He crushed something."
Every sound in the room seemed to disappear.
Jacob continued.
"In your tea."
I stared at my son.
"How many times?"
He shrugged helplessly.
"A lot."
I felt suddenly sick.
Images flashed through my mind.
Mornings when I woke with headaches.
Days I couldn't remember falling asleep.
The time I'd missed Jacob's school performance because I'd slept through three alarms.
Daniel had told me I was exhausted.
That grief had changed me.
That maybe I needed help.
"What's the black thing?"
Jacob whispered, "Daddy puts it in his computer."
"A flash drive?"
He nodded.
"I took it because he said it had the videos."
"What videos?"
"Of you."
My fingers went numb.
"Where is it now?"
"In my backpack."
I stood.
Reyes entered immediately.
"What happened?"
I told her.
Every word.
Her face changed.
"Your house is currently being treated as a potential crime scene," she said. "I'll call the officers there."
"Tell them to get Jacob's backpack."
She stepped away and made the call.
Five minutes later, she came back.
"What?"
I knew from her expression.
She didn't want to say it.
"The backpack is gone."
I stared at her.
"What do you mean gone?"
"The closet is empty."
"Daniel."
"He left the residence after speaking with patrol."
"Where is he?"
"We're trying to locate him."
My phone buzzed again.
This time the message contained a photograph.
Jacob's blue backpack.
Sitting on the passenger seat of Daniel's car.
Under the photograph were six words.
We need to talk. Alone.
May you like
And beneath that:
Or everyone loses.
