Chapter 1 - THE FIRST CALL AFTER EMILY
Emily had been alive for twenty-six minutes when my phone began vibrating inside Rachel's purse.
I knew who it was before Rachel looked at the screen.
Derek had called seventeen times on the drive east, and apparently seventeen had not been enough.
Rachel glanced at me from the chair beside my hospital bed.
"Do you want me to turn it off again?"
I looked down at my daughter sleeping against my chest.
Emily's tiny mouth opened once, then closed, and her fingers curled beneath my hospital gown.
I had imagined Derek beside me for this moment for almost nine months.
I had imagined him crying.
I had imagined him touching her hair with one careful finger.
I had imagined him apologizing for every appointment he had skipped and every cruel joke he had made.
Instead, the only thing he had given me before our daughter was born was fifteen dollars for a taxi.
"Let it ring," I said.
Rachel did not ask whether I was sure.
She set the purse on the windowsill and let the phone vibrate until it stopped.
Three seconds later, it started again.
The nurse who had helped deliver Emily glanced toward the sound.
"Persistent," she said.
"My husband," I answered.
The word felt strange in my mouth now.
It sounded like a title Derek still possessed even though the marriage underneath it had collapsed.
The nurse's expression softened but did not become curious.
She had already seen the bruised exhaustion on my face when I arrived.
She had already heard Rachel tell admissions that I did not want my location disclosed to anyone without my permission.
She had already watched me remove Derek from the emergency contact line with hands that shook harder than they had during labor.
"We can put a privacy restriction on your room," she said.
"Please do."
That was the first decision I made for Emily after becoming her mother.
It would not be the last.
An hour later, while Emily slept in the bassinet beside me, Rachel finally checked the messages.
She read the first one in silence.
Then the second.
Her jaw tightened at the third.
"What?" I asked.
Rachel looked at me carefully.
"He says you stole his car."
I stared at her.
"I left on foot."
"I know."
"Your Honda was waiting at the end of the block."
"I know that too."
Rachel scrolled.
"Now he says you took money from the joint account."
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
It hurt my abdomen, but I laughed anyway.
"He gave me fifteen dollars."
Rachel did not laugh.
"He is building a story already."
The room seemed to change temperature.
I had known Derek could be cruel.
I had known he could be controlling.
I had not yet allowed myself to understand how quickly he could become strategic.
"Read the next one," I said.
Rachel hesitated.
"Please."
She looked back at the screen.
"Come home now, and we can fix this before you embarrass yourself."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Not where are you.
Not are you safe.
Not is the baby here.
Not did something happen.
He was worried about embarrassment.
Rachel kept scrolling.
"The next one says he has already called Riverside Hospital."
"Of course he has."
"He says they told him you never arrived."
I opened my eyes.
"They should not have told him anything."
"They probably told him they had no patient under your name."
Rachel looked at the message again.
"He says if you are trying to punish him, you have made your point."
I looked at Emily.
Her chest rose beneath the striped hospital blanket.
A violent anger moved through me, but it was not the wild kind Derek always accused me of having.
It was cold.
It was organized.
It made me want dates, copies, screenshots, witnesses, and records.
"Save everything," I said.
Rachel's eyes met mine.
"Everything?"
"Every call, every message, every voicemail, every email."
Rachel nodded.
"Done."
The next voicemail arrived twenty minutes later.
This time, Derek was no longer pretending to be calm.
Rachel put it on speaker because I asked her to.
"Claire, this is insane."
Hearing my name in his voice made my shoulders stiffen.
"You are nine months pregnant, you disappear in the middle of the night, and you refuse to answer your husband."
He paused, breathing hard.
"If something happens to my daughter because of this stunt, I will never forgive you."
My daughter.
Not our daughter.
My daughter.
The ownership in those two words frightened me more than the anger.
The message continued.
"Call me before I call the police."
Rachel stopped the recording.
"He threatened the police."
"No," I said.
"He warned me he was about to use them."
Rachel watched me for a second.
"There is a difference."
"With Derek, there is always a difference."
I remembered the way he used to correct me after arguments.
He had not forbidden me from buying groceries.
He had only moved the money so I would have to ask.
He had not insulted my job.
He had only explained why it did not count as a real career.
He had not isolated me from Rachel.
He had only complained every time I spent money visiting Pittsburgh.
He had not threatened to leave me without insurance.
He had only reminded me whose employer provided it.
Every cruelty came wrapped in a technicality.
By morning, I understood that our separation would too.
At 7:12 a.m., a hospital administrator entered with a clipboard.
She introduced herself as Ms. Caldwell and closed the door behind her.
"Mrs. Mercer, I need to confirm a privacy request attached to your chart."
I had not heard my married name spoken since Emily's birth.
For one second, I wanted to tell her not to call me that.
I did not even know what name I would use next week.
"Yes," I said.
"No information to my husband."
Ms. Caldwell nodded.
"We received two calls from a man identifying himself as Derek Mercer."
Rachel sat straighter.
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing beyond our privacy policy."
Ms. Caldwell turned back to me.
"He then claimed he was the father of an infant born here overnight and demanded confirmation."
My mouth went dry.
"How did he know which hospital?"
Ms. Caldwell's expression did not change.
"That is what we were going to ask you."
I looked at Rachel.
Rachel looked at me.
Neither of us had told anyone where we stopped.
We had not posted anything.
We had not called family.
We had not even told Rachel's husband until after Emily was born, and he did not know the hospital name.
Ms. Caldwell checked her clipboard.
"He gave our switchboard your full name and date of birth."
"That still does not explain how he found this hospital."
"No, it does not."
Rachel stood.
"Could he have tracked her phone?"
My stomach tightened.
Not from labor this time.
I thought about the family phone plan Derek insisted we keep because it was cheaper.
I thought about the location-sharing app he had installed two years earlier after I got a flat tire in Cleveland.
I had turned my phone off outside Zanesville.
But before that, it had been on.
"He could see where I was," I whispered.
Rachel's face went pale.
The administrator spoke gently.
"If you are concerned about unwanted contact, security can speak with you."
I nodded.
"Please send them."
Ten minutes after Ms. Caldwell left, Rachel removed my phone from the purse.
She powered it on only long enough to photograph the call log using her own phone.
The screen filled with notifications.
Forty-three missed calls.
Twenty-seven text messages.
Six voicemails.
Then a new message appeared while we watched.
I expected another demand.
Instead, Derek wrote only one sentence.
I know exactly where you are.
Rachel and I stared at the screen.
Then a second message appeared.
May you like
And I am coming for my daughter.
