Chapter 3
My fingers went cold.
Claire stopped struggling.
Officer Patel kept one hand near her elbow.
Mom stood beside me.
Nobody spoke.
I looked at the paper again.
Things Daniel Must Never Know.
Underneath were six numbered lines.
The first had been crossed out so heavily that I couldn’t read it.
The second said:
Seattle Savings account.
The third:
Dr. Monroe.
The fourth:
April 11.
The fifth:
Sophie’s test.
The sixth:
Nathan.
I looked at my wife.
“Who is Nathan?”
Claire’s face went blank.
Not confused.
Blank.
Like someone had switched her emotions off.
Officer Harris stepped closer.
“Mr. Bennett, don’t confront her. Just tell us what you know.”
“I don’t know anything.”
Mom pointed at the paper.
“What is Sophie’s test?”
Claire suddenly laughed.
It was quiet.
Bitter.
“You’re all making this into something it isn’t.”
I stared at her.
“Then explain it.”
“I wrote that when I was angry.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Who is Nathan?”
“Someone from work.”
“You don’t work.”
Her face tightened.
“I used to.”
“You quit two years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then who is Nathan?”
Officer Patel told her she did not have to answer.
Claire turned toward the officer.
“I want a lawyer.”
The room changed immediately.
Harris nodded.
“That’s your right.”
He stopped questioning her.
I looked at him.
“What happens now?”
“We’ll document the scene, obtain the camera footage, and speak with child protective services.”
Claire’s eyes snapped toward him.
“Child protective services?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Mrs. Bennett, we’re not discussing the investigation with you now.”
“You can’t take my daughter.”
Patel remained calm.
“No decision has been made in this room.”
Claire pointed at my mother.
“She should be arrested too!”
Mom’s eyebrows lifted.
“For what?”
“You assaulted me.”
“You pushed my granddaughter toward a staircase.”
“You grabbed my hair!”
“I stopped you from taking Sophie back.”
“You attacked me.”
Officer Harris looked at Mom.
“Did you pull Mrs. Bennett’s hair?”
Mom didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because after I caught the stroller, Claire tried to take Sophie from me. She was screaming. I wouldn’t hand the baby over. She grabbed my arms. I grabbed her hair.”
Claire gave a victorious laugh.
“There. She admitted it.”
Mom looked at her.
“I’d do it again.”
“Mom,” I warned.
Officer Harris raised a hand.
“Everyone needs to stop.”
He took Mom’s statement.
Then Claire’s.
Then mine.
Paramedics arrived and checked Sophie.
No visible injuries.
Normal pupils.
Normal breathing.
But because of what happened, they recommended a hospital examination.
I didn’t hesitate.
“I’m taking her.”
Claire moved toward the diaper bag.
“I’m coming.”
Officer Patel blocked her.
“You’ll need to remain here for now.”
Claire stared at me.
“Daniel.”
I picked up Sophie’s blanket.
“Please don’t do this.”
I stopped.
For one painful second, I saw my wife as she had been before all of this.
The woman who danced barefoot in our kitchen.
The woman who cried when we first heard Sophie’s heartbeat.
The woman who squeezed my hand so hard during labor that my fingers went numb.
Then I looked at the staircase.
And that woman disappeared.
I left.
Mom rode with me.
At Seattle Children’s, doctors examined Sophie.
They ordered imaging as a precaution.
I sat beside the bed while she kicked her feet and tried to pull the little monitor wire from her toe.
Mom stood by the window.
Neither of us had spoken for almost ten minutes.
Finally I asked, “How long have you been worried about Claire?”
Mom turned.
“A while.”
“How long?”
“Since before Sophie was born.”
I stared at her.
“And you said nothing?”
“I did say things.”
“You complained about her.”
“I tried to tell you.”
“You told me she was controlling.”
“She is.”
“You told me she isolated me.”
“She did.”
“You told me she hated you.”
“She does.”
“That’s different from telling me you thought she was dangerous.”
Mom looked down.
“I didn’t know she was dangerous.”
“Then what did you know?”
She hesitated.
That frightened me.
“What?”
“Last Christmas, Claire asked me something.”
“What?”
Mom walked closer.
“She asked whether you had life insurance.”
I stared.
“She knew I did.”
“She asked how much.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you say?”
“I told her I didn’t know.”
“She probably asked because we had just bought the house.”
“Maybe.”
“You think that was suspicious?”
“Not by itself.”
“Then why mention it?”
Mom swallowed.
“Because she asked whether Sophie would inherit everything if something happened to both of you.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“That’s estate planning.”
“Maybe.”
“Mom.”
“She also asked whether you had changed your beneficiary after your father died.”
I stopped.
My father had died four years earlier.
He left me a sizable inheritance.
Not enough to make me rich.
Enough to pay off debt and put a large down payment on our house.
Claire knew all of that.
Still, something about Mom’s words made my skin crawl.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were happy.”
I looked away.
“That’s not an answer.”
“You were happy for the first time after your father died.”
My anger weakened.
Mom’s voice cracked.
“I didn’t want to become the mother who poisoned her son’s marriage because she didn’t like his wife.”
I looked at her.
“So you stayed quiet.”
“I watched.”
“And today?”
“Today I saw enough.”
My phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
I answered.
“Daniel Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“This is Rachel Monroe.”
My eyes moved to the paper still folded in my pocket.
Dr. Monroe.
“Doctor Monroe?”
There was a pause.
“Yes.”
My heart began pounding.
“How did you get my number?”
“Claire listed you as an emergency contact several months ago.”
“Why are you calling?”
Another pause.
“I received a voicemail from Claire twenty minutes ago.”
I stood.
“What did she say?”
“She told me the police were involved.”
Mom was watching me.
I stepped into the hallway.
“What kind of doctor are you?”
“I’m a psychiatrist.”
The corridor seemed to tilt.
“Is Claire your patient?”
“I can’t discuss protected medical information without authorization.”
“But you called me.”
“I can discuss immediate safety concerns when necessary.”
I gripped the phone tighter.
“Is my daughter in danger?”
“I don’t know enough to answer that.”
“What do you know?”
“Mr. Bennett, did something happen involving your child today?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
I told her.
Not everything.
Just the stroller.
The silence that followed was long enough to terrify me.
“Dr. Monroe?”
“I think you need to make sure Claire is not left alone tonight.”
“With Sophie?”
“With anyone vulnerable.”
My mouth went dry.
“What does that mean?”
“I’m limited in what I can disclose.”
“She almost sent our baby down a staircase.”
“I understand.”
“Then stop talking like a lawyer and tell me what I need to know.”
Mom stepped into the hallway.
She could see my face.
Dr. Monroe spoke quietly.
“Has Claire ever told you she experiences periods she cannot remember clearly?”
I thought about it.
“No.”
“Has she described feeling detached from reality?”
“No.”
“Has she ever said that she believes people are watching her?”
My stomach dropped.
Two months earlier Claire had covered our bedroom camera.
I had laughed.
She hadn’t.
She said she hated the feeling that technology was always watching us.
“At least once.”
Dr. Monroe sighed.
“Where is Claire now?”
“With police at our house.”
“Good.”
“Is she dangerous?”
“I can’t predict behavior.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I know.”
I heard typing.
Then she said, “I’m going to contact the responding agency.”
“Why?”
“Because there may be relevant safety information I am permitted to share with them.”
I closed my eyes.
“Doctor.”
“Yes?”
“What is April 11?”
Silence.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“You recognize that date.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Mr. Bennett, where did you see it?”
“On a list my wife wrote.”
“What else was on the list?”
I pulled out the paper.
“Seattle Savings account. Your name. April 11. Sophie’s test. Nathan.”
Dr. Monroe stopped breathing for a second.
I heard it.
Then she said, “Do not confront Claire about Nathan.”
My blood went cold.
“Who is he?”
“I need to call the police.”
“Who is Nathan?”
“Daniel, listen carefully.”
It was the first time she used my first name.
That scared me more than anything.
“Do not go home alone. Do not allow Claire access to Sophie. And if Claire contacts you, do not tell her where you and the baby are.”
The line went dead.
I stood frozen.
Mom grabbed my arm.
“What did she say?”
Before I could answer, another call came in.
Officer Harris.
I answered immediately.
“Mr. Bennett, where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“Stay there.”
“What happened?”
“We found something in your house.”
I looked at Mom.
“What?”
Officer Harris paused.
“A second phone.”
“Whose?”
“We believe it belongs to your wife.”
My mouth went dry.
“What’s on it?”
“We’re still determining that.”
“Officer, what did you find?”
His voice changed.
Professional.
Careful.
“We found photographs of your daughter.”
I closed my eyes.
“What kind of photographs?”
“Mostly normal.”
“Mostly?”
“One image appears to show Sophie’s crib.”
I waited.
“That’s not strange.”
“No.”
“Then what is?”
“There’s writing visible beside the crib.”
I barely managed to ask.
“What writing?”
Harris inhaled.
“A note taped to the wall.”
“And?”
“It says, April 11 failed.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Mom caught my elbow.
Harris continued.
“Mr. Bennett, do you know what happened on April 11?”
I opened my mouth.
Then I remembered.
April 11.
It had been a Saturday.
Claire had gone grocery shopping.
I had been home with Sophie.
The smoke alarm suddenly went off.
I found a dish towel burning on the stove.
At the time, I thought I had accidentally left a burner on.
But I had never understood how.
And Sophie’s bassinet had been sitting ten feet away.
I whispered, “There was a fire.”
May you like
Officer Harris went silent.
Then he said, “We need to talk.”
