Chapter 11 - A Door That Locks
Ethan was released on bail with strict conditions. The prosecutor said that wasn't an acquittal, but when Dana told me, my hands turned cold around my coffee cup.
"He can't contact you," she said. "He can't go near your temporary address. Report anything that feels like a message from him."
An hour later, Jason sent one.
Mom says you're destroying us. Think about who your baby needs.
I took a screenshot and forwarded it to Dana. I didn't answer.
That night Tessa and I moved into a short-term apartment arranged through a victims' assistance program. It had a working deadbolt, a chair by the window, and a tiny kitchen with yellow curtains. It felt safer than the four-bedroom house I'd lived in with Ethan.
"I keep thinking I should've noticed sooner," I admitted.
Tessa set two bowls of soup on the table. "You noticed when you were ready and when you had enough information to act. That's what matters now."
My phone rang. Unknown number. I let it go to voicemail.
The message was Ethan's voice, soft and familiar.
"Claire, honey, I know you're scared. Tell them it was an accident. We can start over before the baby comes."
A pause.
"Don't make strangers decide what kind of mother you are."
Dana heard the recording the next morning and brought it to the prosecutor. It could become evidence of a bail violation. For the first time, my fear had a date, a time, and a voice on a record somebody else believed.
I was walking back from the kitchen when a folded paper slid under the apartment door.
There was no knock. No footsteps I could hear.
Tessa checked the hallway through the peephole before calling the building manager and the police. We didn't open the door.
The paper showed a photograph of my old Army dog tags lying on Ethan's desk.
May you like
Underneath, someone had written three words:
WE STILL HAVE YOU.
