Chapter 6 - Ethan’s Car
Ethan said he was not driving.
I wanted to believe him.
That was the problem.
He produced his calendar.
Dinner with investors from seven to ten.
Then hotel bar until midnight.
Receipts.
Witnesses.
The Bennett Medical garage was four miles away.
Could he have left briefly?
Maybe.
Then valet logs showed his sedan never left hotel until 12:32 a.m.
So how was it in company garage at 11:48?
It wasn’t.
Same license plate.
Different car.
Security video enhancement showed older model.
Clone plate.
Someone wanted tracker history to implicate Ethan.
Or someone used his plate for anonymity.
Eric owned a black sedan of similar make.
Different year.
His plate?
Different.
Could he have cloned Ethan’s?
Yes.
Why?
Misdirection.
Then police found printed temporary plate paper in Eric’s trash.
Ethan’s number.
That helped him.
But not completely.
Because the “E” messages remained.
Then Diane requested an attorney.
Stopped talking.
Eric too.
We waited.
Meanwhile I went home under police cleared access.
Not to stay.
To collect clothes for Noah and myself.
Ethan had moved to a hotel voluntarily.
I asked him to.
He agreed.
No fight.
Then Noah.
Rachel arranged a child interview specialist because we did not want adults leading him.
Four years old.
No courtroom performance.
Simple questions.
Who takes care of you?
Mommy.
Daddy.
Diane.
Does Diane say things about Mommy?
“Yes.”
What?
“Mommy gets tired.”
True.
Anything else?
“Mommy’s brain is sick.”
I froze behind observation glass.
Who told you that?
“Diane.”
What does that mean?
“She forgets.”
Does Mommy forget?
“No.”
Then:
“Diane says if people ask, I tell them Mommy sleeps and I make cereal.”
My stomach turned.
Did you make cereal alone?
“No. Diane makes it.”
Did Mommy sleep?
“Sometimes.”
Pregnant woman naps.
Then:
“Diane said we practice.”
Practice what?
“My answers.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Coaching.
Then Noah said something worse.
“Uncle Eric came when Mommy wasn’t home.”
When?
“At night.”
What did he do?
“Talked to Daddy.”
My entire body went cold.
Ethan had told me Eric had not been in our house for months.
Maybe Noah confused time.
Child interviewer did not press.
Later I asked Ethan.
“Has Eric been at the house at night?”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Three.”
My stomach turned.
“You lied.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Everything matters now.”
Why did Eric come?
To talk about me.
Our marriage.
My stress.
Crescent Harbor deal.
One night Eric told Ethan:
“Claire needs to step back before she breaks.”
Did Ethan agree?
“I said maybe she needed rest.”
“Did you discuss taking over her vote?”
Silence.
“Ethan.”
“Yes.”
My chest hollowed.
He continued quickly.
“But only if you were actually medically unwell.”
“Did you ask how that would happen?”
“No.”
“Did he?”
“He said two doctors could certify.”
I knew.
Then:
“Did he suggest an evaluation?”
“Yes.”
“Family Assessment Solutions?”
“No. He said independent assessment.”
I stepped backward.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew he was thinking about my capacity.”
“I thought he was helping.”
“Did you tell him I would never approve Crescent Harbor?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him Friday was deadline?”
“Yes.”
The E in the messages felt closer.
Then Rebecca called.
Police had identified the account used to send messages to Eric.
Encrypted app.
Registered to a prepaid phone.
Purchased with cash.
Store security footage recovered.
May you like
Buyer:
Ethan.
