Chapter 7 - Mother's Voice
For a moment I thought I had imagined the words.
"What did you put there?" I asked.
"Something you'll thank me for when you come to your senses."
I told her the conversation could be handled through attorneys.
She laughed softly.
"David, you're not a defendant.
You're my son."
"My wife is in the hospital."
"Because she refused to listen."
"Our newborn was cold and dehydrated."
"Don't exaggerate medical language."
I watched Liam's nurse adjust his blanket beyond the glass.
"You left with his formula."
Eleanor's tone sharpened for the first time.
"I bought that formula with family money."
"I paid for it."
"Everything is about money with you now."
I nearly answered, then heard Rachel's earlier advice in my head.
I informed Eleanor that I would end the call and contact counsel.
She spoke quickly before I could disconnect.
"Ask Maya what happened on December twenty-sixth.
Ask her why she begged me not to tell you."
The call ended.
Maya was sleeping, and I refused to wake her for an accusation unsupported by anything except my mother's voice.
I checked the apartment footage from that date instead.
The living-room camera showed Eleanor standing over Maya, who was holding Liam and trying to remain upright.
There was no sound on that recording because the microphone had malfunctioned the previous month.
Eleanor pushed a folder across the coffee table.
Maya shook her head.
Eleanor pointed toward the bassinet, and Maya began to cry.
Then Mark stepped into frame and moved between them.
He appeared to argue with Eleanor.
The recording ended abruptly when someone switched off the camera at the wall.
I sent Naomi the timestamp.
An hour later, a voicemail from an unknown number appeared.
The speaker was Mark.
"David, I didn't take all those bags because I wanted to," he said.
His breathing sounded uneven.
"I carried them.
That's on me.
But your mother told us the food was contaminated.
She said there was a recall."
He paused.
"I should've checked.
I didn't."
Behind him, a door slammed.
"Chloe knows why the cameras were left on," he said.
"She knows who ordered the report."
The recording cut off before he named anyone else.
I forwarded the voicemail to Naomi.
Twenty minutes later, Mark sent one text.
Don't call me.
May you like
I think someone's reading my messages.
