Chapter 7
The police moved us again.
This time they refused to tell me where until we arrived.
A small apartment owned by a local domestic violence organization.
No name on the building.
No obvious signs.
Just a locked door, covered parking, and a woman named Teresa who gave Emma a juice box and spoke to me like she had seen my exact expression a thousand times.
“Phones can reveal location,” she said.
I surrendered mine to police for evidence collection and received a temporary replacement.
Lauren hugged me before leaving.
“I should stay.”
“No.”
“He photographed my house.”
“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not scared of him.”
“I am.”
That silenced her.
I held her hands.
“I need you safe too.”
Lauren nodded.
Then she hugged Emma.
“Call me whenever you want, okay?”
Emma nodded.
After Lauren left, the apartment felt unfamiliar and temporary.
Emma walked from room to room.
“Do we live here now?”
“Just for a little while.”
“When can we go home?”
I didn’t know.
Our home had become evidence.
A possible place Michael might return.
A place full of memories I no longer trusted.
“I’m not sure.”
Emma looked sad.
“My purple blanket is there.”
“I’ll get it when it’s safe.”
She nodded.
Children could reduce disaster to simple things.
A blanket.
A toy.
A favorite cup.
Adults were the ones who complicated everything.
That afternoon Officer Ramirez came to the apartment.
She looked exhausted.
But she brought news.
“We found Michael’s vehicle.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
“Abandoned near a bus terminal.”
“Did he take a bus?”
“We don’t know.”
“Was the rifle inside?”
“No.”
Of course not.
“Anything useful?”
“A receipt.”
“For what?”
“A prepaid phone.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He’s planning everything.”
“It appears he planned parts of it before today.”
That mattered.
“How far before?”
“We’re still establishing the timeline.”
“What about the video from the safe-deposit box?”
Ramirez sat across from me.
“It was recorded by Robert.”
I waited.
“He set up a camera in the basement of Diane’s old house.”
“Why?”
“According to his journal, he believed Diane was trying to make people think he was unstable. He wanted evidence of what was happening.”
My stomach twisted.
“What happened?”
“The recording contains an argument.”
“Between who?”
“Robert, Diane, and Michael.”
I leaned forward.
“What do they say?”
Ramirez hesitated.
“Robert confronts Diane about money.”
“What money?”
“She had apparently transferred a large amount from a business account.”
“What business?”
“Robert owned a construction company.”
Michael had told me the company failed before his father disappeared.
“Diane stole from him?”
“Robert believed she did.”
“How much?”
“More than two hundred thousand dollars at the time.”
My eyes widened.
Twenty years ago, that was enormous.
“What did Michael have to do with it?”
“According to the recording, Diane told Robert that Michael had helped her access financial records.”
I stared.
“He was seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“What happened after that?”
“The argument became physical.”
My mouth went dry.
“Michael attacked him?”
“Robert shoved Michael first.”
I blinked.
That mattered.
Not enough to erase everything.
But it mattered.
“Then?”
“Diane struck Robert with an object.”
I gripped the couch.
“What object?”
“A fireplace tool.”
“Oh God.”
“Michael then joined the assault.”
“Did they kill him on the recording?”
“No.”
I breathed out.
“Robert is still alive when the recording ends.”
“What does he say?”
“He tells them he’s going to police.”
“And then he disappears.”
“Yes.”
I covered my face.
“Does Diane know police have the video?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Her attorney says she will cooperate in exchange for consideration regarding potential charges.”
I stared at Ramirez.
“She wants a deal.”
“Yes.”
“For beating my daughter?”
“The prosecutor will make those decisions.”
Rage hit me.
“She doesn’t get to trade Emma for information.”
“No one is suggesting that.”
“That’s exactly what it sounds like.”
Ramirez waited until I calmed.
Then she said, “Diane’s information may help us find Michael.”
That was different.
I hated that it was different.
“What did she tell you?”
“Michael contacted her after leaving the hospital.”
“I knew someone did.”
“He told her to stay quiet.”
“And?”
“She says he planned to reach Canada.”
I frowned.
“We’re nowhere near Canada.”
“He may have transportation arranged.”
“Who’s helping him?”
“She gave us a name.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Ramirez looked at me.
“Your brother.”
The world stopped.
“My what?”
“Ethan.”
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“You have a brother named Ethan Cole?”
“Yes.”
“Michael called him yesterday.”
“No.”
I stood.
“Ethan hates Michael.”
“Do they speak privately?”
“Never.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Even as I said it, doubt entered.
Ethan and I had been distant for a year.
Not because of a fight.
Because life happened.
Work.
Emma.
His new relationship.
Michael often told me Ethan was “busy being selfish.”
I had stopped calling as often.
I suddenly realized how many of my relationships had weakened with Michael nearby.
“Why would Michael call him?”
“We hoped you could tell us.”
“I can’t.”
“Do you have Ethan’s current number?”
“Yes.”
Ramirez told me not to contact him.
Police already had.
He wasn’t answering.
My stomach tightened.
“Is he in danger?”
“We don’t know.”
“Or is he helping Michael?”
“We don’t know.”
I hated those words.
At five, someone knocked.
I jumped so violently that Emma dropped her crayons.
Teresa checked the security camera first.
It was a detective.
He brought a laptop.
“We have something we’d like Rachel to see.”
Emma went into the bedroom with Teresa.
The detective sat beside Ramirez.
On the screen was grainy surveillance footage from a gas station.
Time stamp: 3:17 a.m.
A man in a baseball cap walked into frame.
Michael.
My breath caught.
He looked different.
Unshaven.
Dark jacket.
Backpack.
He paid cash.
Then another man entered.
My stomach dropped.
“Ethan.”
My brother.
Ethan walked directly toward Michael.
They spoke.
No audio.
Then Ethan handed him something.
Keys.
I felt sick.
“He helped him.”
The detective said, “Watch.”
They walked outside.
Michael opened the driver’s door of Ethan’s truck.
Then something changed.
Ethan grabbed Michael’s arm.
Michael shoved him.
Ethan pushed back.
They argued.
Michael suddenly pulled something from beneath his jacket.
A handgun.
I stopped breathing.
“That isn’t the rifle.”
“No.”
“Where did he get a handgun?”
“We don’t know.”
On screen, Michael pointed it at my brother.
Ethan raised both hands.
Then gave Michael the keys.
Michael drove away.
Ethan stood alone in the parking lot.
“Oh my God.”
“He didn’t help him.”
“No.”
“Where is Ethan now?”
“We found him this afternoon.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s shaken but uninjured.”
“Why didn’t he call police?”
“He did.”
“What?”
“The gas station employee had already called after seeing the weapon. Ethan stayed nearby and gave a statement.”
I closed my eyes in relief.
“Why didn’t he call me?”
“He says he tried yesterday.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Multiple times.”
“I never got calls.”
Ramirez and the detective exchanged a look.
“What?”
“Ethan says he has been trying to contact you for weeks.”
My chest tightened.
“That’s not true.”
“He showed us his phone records.”
I stared.
“I never received anything.”
“Did Michael have access to your phone account?”
Yes.
Of course he did.
Michael managed the family plan.
Passwords.
Settings.
Everything.
The detective continued.
“Ethan says several weeks ago he became suspicious of Michael.”
“Why?”
“He saw him with another woman.”
That hurt in a completely different way.
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
Among everything else, my husband might also have been cheating.
“Who?”
“Ethan didn’t know her.”
“Where?”
“A motel.”
I stared at the wall.
“Did he confront Michael?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Michael told him to stay out of your marriage.”
“Why didn’t Ethan come to my house?”
“He did.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Twice.”
“I would remember.”
“You weren’t home.”
My stomach twisted.
“Michael told him you didn’t want to see him.”
I closed my eyes.
Isolation.
One piece at a time.
Michael hadn’t simply damaged relationships.
He had actively controlled them.
Blocked calls.
Deleted messages.
Lied.
And I had helped by believing him.
I whispered, “I thought Ethan stopped caring.”
“He didn’t.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Where is he?”
“Police brought him to a secure location.”
“Can I speak to him?”
Ramirez nodded.
The detective called.
Seconds later, my brother’s face appeared on the laptop.
“Rachel?”
I broke.
“Ethan.”
He looked exhausted.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For believing him.”
Ethan shook his head.
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“Don’t do that.”
I cried harder.
He leaned closer to the camera.
“Listen to me. Michael asked me yesterday if I knew where you keep your passport.”
My tears stopped.
“What?”
“He called from a number I didn’t recognize. Said you two were planning a surprise trip.”
“My passport?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at Ramirez.
Her expression changed instantly.
Ethan continued.
“Then last night he showed up at my apartment and demanded my truck.”
“What did he say?”
“That people were trying to take Emma from him.”
My stomach turned.
“He told you that?”
“I told him to get out. He left. Then he found me at the gas station hours later.”
“What else?”
Ethan hesitated.
“Rachel, he had a picture.”
My pulse jumped.
“What picture?”
“Of Emma.”
“That’s not unusual.”
“No.”
Ethan looked terrified.
“It was taken through Lauren’s window.”
My stomach dropped.
“Before the hospital?”
“I don’t know.”
He continued.
“And there were others.”
“What others?”
“You.”
The room went cold.
“Pictures of me?”
“You leaving work. At the grocery store. At Emma’s school.”
I felt sick.
“He’s been following me?”
“I think so.”
Ramirez stood and began making calls.
I stared at Ethan.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Then he said the words that changed everything.
“He also had a photograph of a woman I recognized.”
“Who?”
“The woman from the motel.”
My heart pounded.
“What does she have to do with this?”
Ethan swallowed.
“She was wearing a police uniform.”
Officer Ramirez stopped talking.
Slowly, she turned toward the screen.
“What department?”
Ethan leaned back, thinking.
“I couldn’t see the patch.”
Then he looked directly at Ramirez.
“But Michael called her Sarah.”
Ramirez’s face drained of color.
I noticed immediately.
“You know her.”
Ramirez didn’t answer.
“Officer Ramirez?”
She stared at Ethan.
Then at me.
“Yes.”
My stomach twisted.
“Who is Sarah?”
Ramirez’s jaw tightened.
“Detective Sarah Miller.”
May you like
“And?”
“She works in my department.”
