Chapter 17 - The Call From Ethan’s Tablet
The call came from Ethan’s tablet at 4:12 on Thursday afternoon.
Except Ethan was sitting beside me.
He looked at the screen.
“That’s weird.”
His own account was calling him.
I answered.
Brooke’s voice came through.
“Hi, Clare.”
Daniel stood immediately.
I activated speaker and began recording from my phone.
“Brooke.”
“Is Ethan there?”
“No.”
Ethan’s eyes widened.
I put a finger to my lips.
Brooke laughed.
“You always were a terrible liar.”
“How did you access his account?”
“He’s my son.”
“No.”
Silence.
Then her voice changed.
“You can say that until you die.”
I kept my tone flat.
“Where are you?”
“You’d like that.”
“Yes.”
“Put Ethan on.”
“No.”
“He deserves to hear my voice.”
“No.”
“You poisoned him against me.”
“He’s eight.”
“You told him I abandoned him.”
“He knows age-appropriate facts.”
“You told him I didn’t love him.”
“I never said that.”
Brooke breathed hard.
“You want him to hate me.”
“No. I want him safe.”
“I can be safe.”
“Then enter treatment and comply with the court.”
She laughed again.
“You think that order means anything?”
Daniel moved toward the phone.
I shook my head.
Brooke continued.
“Ask Ethan whether he remembers the blue blanket.”
I froze.
In the casino report, Ethan had used a blue fleece blanket to cover Lily.
We had never told him that detail.
“Why?”
“He remembers.”
“He was two.”
“He remembers me.”
“Maybe.”
That answer stunned her into silence.
I continued.
“He might remember your voice. Your smell. Your face. You were his first mother.”
Daniel looked at me.
Ethan’s eyes filled.
“But remembering you doesn’t mean he belongs to you.”
Brooke began crying.
“He was mine.”
“He was a child. Not property.”
“You stole my chance.”
“You surrendered it.”
“You forced me!”
“You had an attorney.”
“I was sick!”
“Yes.”
“I needed help.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t anybody help me?”
My anger nearly exploded.
“We spent seventy-five thousand dollars helping you.”
“That was money!”
“We found treatment. Housing. Lawyers. Doctors.”
“I needed my babies.”
“No, Brooke.”
My voice broke.
“You needed to become safe for them. You chose not to.”
She sobbed.
“I love him.”
“I believe you.”
Daniel stared at me.
Brooke went silent.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
Another long silence.
Then I said, “Love is not enough if your behavior makes the person you love unsafe.”
The call disconnected.
We immediately contacted Detective Harris.
Digital investigators traced the login.
A public library outside Lancaster.
Officers arrived twenty minutes later.
Brooke was gone.
But a librarian remembered her.
She had been crying.
She had asked about bus schedules.
Destination?
Baltimore.
Police expanded the search.
Meanwhile, Ethan sat very still.
“You said she loves me.”
I turned toward him.
“Yes.”
“But she did bad things.”
“Yes.”
“Can both happen?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
He looked confused.
“That’s stupid.”
Daniel laughed unexpectedly.
“So much of adulthood is.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Do I have to love her?”
“No.”
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
“Will it hurt your feelings?”
The question shattered me.
I pulled him close.
“You never have to choose between your feelings and mine.”
He began crying against my shoulder.
“I don’t know what I feel.”
“That’s okay.”
For the first time since the barbecue, Ethan was not asking whether I was his real mother.
He knew.
Now he was facing something harder.
The reality that his biological mother could love him and still be unsafe.
Dr. Cohen called that complicated grief.
I called it unfair.
That night, Lily climbed into our bed.
Then Ethan.
Daniel groaned that nobody had room.
Nobody moved.
At 1:40 a.m., my phone buzzed.
Detective Harris.
They had located Brooke.
Not in Baltimore.
At a bus station in York.
She was sitting alone on a bench.
She had no weapon.
No drugs.
No luggage.
Only the photograph of herself holding baby Ethan.
When officers approached, she did not run.
She simply said:
“I want my son.”
May you like
By sunrise, Brooke was in custody for violating the protective order.
And for the first time in weeks, I slept.
