Chapter 4
We walked into Jamie’s room together.
He was propped up on pillows, wires sticking out from under his gown.
The room was quiet, the only sound the beep of the heart monitor.
When he saw us, his face lit up.
“Dad!”
Mark was at his side in two steps.
Kneeling, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Holding him so gently, like he was afraid he’d break.
“I’m here, buddy. I’m here. I’m never leaving again.”
Lila climbed onto the bed next to Jamie.
Curled up by his side, careful not to bump his IV.
I stood by the foot of the bed.
Watching them.
Scared that if I blinked, it would all disappear.
That I’d wake up on the couch again, Jamie still gone, Mara still bringing me tea and telling me it would be okay.
A detective came in an hour later.
Introduced herself as Detective Carter.
Middle-aged, kind eyes, a scar across her left eyebrow.
She sat down in the chair by the door.
“I know this is hard,” she said.
“But we need to talk to Jamie. About what happened. Only if he’s up to it.”
I looked at Mark.
He nodded.
We turned to Jamie.
“Whatever you want, baby,” I said.
“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
Jamie bit his lip.
Looked at Lila, then at us.
“I want to,” he said.
His voice was stronger now.
“Okay,” Detective Carter said.
She pulled out a small recorder.
Pressed a button.
“Jamie, can you tell me what happened the day you went to get the mail?”
Jamie nodded.
He squeezed Lila’s hand.
“I was walking down the driveway,” he said.
“Aunt Mara pulled up in her car. She said you fell and hit your head, Mom. That you were at the hospital. She said she’d take me to you.”
My throat tightened.
I’d been home that whole day.
Folding laundry, calling the police, putting up missing person posters.
“I got in her car,” Jamie said.
His voice got smaller.
“But she didn’t drive to the hospital. She drove to an old house. The one she used to live in before she moved back here. She locked me in the basement.”
Detective Carter took notes.
“Did she hurt you there, Jamie?”
Jamie flinched.
“Sometimes,” he said.
“When I yelled too loud. She said if I was quiet, she’d take me home soon. But she never did. Then one day, she moved me. Put me in the back of her car, covered me with a blanket. Brought me here. To your house. Put me under the floor. Said the men working on it wouldn’t hear me if I was quiet.”
I closed my eyes.
The floor crew had been in and out for a week.
Loud saws, hammers, radios playing.
All while Jamie was ten inches below them.
“She gave me bread and water,” Jamie said.
“Once a day. Sometimes twice. When I asked about you, she said you didn’t want me anymore. That you were happy I was gone.”
Mark’s hand tightened on the bed rail.
His knuckles white.
“That’s not true, buddy,” he said.
His voice cracked.
“We looked for you every single day. We never stopped.”
Jamie nodded.
“I know,” he said.
“I didn’t believe her. Not really. I heard you talking sometimes. At night. I heard Lila laughing. I tried to yell, but the rag was in my mouth. I kicked the floor, but the music was too loud.”
He looked at Lila.
Smiled a little.
“Then last night, I heard her doing cartwheels. I kicked as hard as I could. I knew she’d hear me. She always hears everything.”
Lila beamed.
Puffed out her chest a little.
“I’m a good listener,” she said.
Detective Carter turned off the recorder.
Stood up.
“Thank you, Jamie,” she said.
“You were very brave. We’re going to make sure Aunt Mara can never hurt anyone again.”
She left the room.
Jamie yawned.
His eyes getting heavy.
“Sleep, baby,” I said.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his leg.
“We’re right here. No one is going to take you away again.”
He closed his eyes.
Lila was already asleep next to him, her head on his shoulder.
Mark and I sat in the dark.
Holding hands.
Watching our kids breathe.
Neither of us said a word.
What was there to say?
The woman I’d grown up with, shared secrets with, been maid of honor for at her wedding, had stolen my son.
Had kept him in the dark, hungry and scared, while she sat at my dinner table and pretended to grieve with us.
May you like
I didn’t know who Mara was anymore.
I didn’t know if I ever had.
