Chapter 6
Lauren made it three steps.
Not because she was slow.
Because my father was faster than grief should have allowed.
He caught the back of her coat before she reached the porch.
She screamed and twisted.
“Let go of me!”
Dad held her until the officer took over.
For one second, I saw the man he had been before age softened his edges.
A father who had buried his daughter.
A grandfather who had nearly lost her child.
A husband whose wife had helped hide both.
Lauren was placed in the back of a patrol car just before dawn.
Not arrested for murder.
Not yet.
But detained after violating the preservation order, attempting to flee, and interfering with an investigation.
Marcus had already been taken in for questioning.
My mother sat in Dad’s living room like a ghost when we returned.
Ava slept upstairs in my old room.
I stood in the doorway, staring at the woman who had raised me.
She could not look at me.
“You heard the recording?” I asked.
Dad answered for her.
“Yes.”
Mom whispered, “I didn’t know Lauren followed Hannah.”
I wanted to believe her.
That was the cruel part.
Some part of me was still a child wanting his mother to be less guilty than the evidence made her look.
“You knew Hannah asked for me.”
She nodded.
“You knew she said Lauren couldn’t have the baby.”
“Yes.”
“You knew and you buried it.”
Her shoulders shook.
“Yes.”
I turned away.
She reached out.
“Ethan.”
“Don’t.”
Dad stood near the window.
His face looked carved from stone.
For forty years, he had loved my mother.
That morning, love looked like devastation.
Rebecca arrived with temporary custody papers at 8:30.
Emergency guardianship hearing.
Same afternoon.
Until then, Ava remained with me.
Lauren was barred from contact.
Marcus too.
My mother was not allowed unsupervised access.
Dad read that line twice.
Then he signed as witness without speaking.
At noon, I fed Ava mashed bananas in my father’s kitchen.
She slapped the spoon with one small hand and smeared banana across her cheek.
For a second, I laughed.
Then I cried so suddenly I scared myself.
Dad took the spoon.
“Go wash your face.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
I went to the bathroom and gripped the sink.
In the mirror, I looked like a man who had aged years overnight.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown email.
Subject: Brighton.
Attached were three files.
A photo.
A voicemail.
A scan of a check.
I opened the photo first.
It showed Lauren standing outside a black SUV.
Behind her was Hannah’s car.
The date stamp was two hours before the crash.
The voicemail was Hannah’s voice, panicked.
“Ethan, it’s me. I know we haven’t talked today. Lauren found out about the trust. She keeps saying Mom promised her the baby. I’m going to Dad’s. Please call me.”
My hand shook so hard I almost dropped the phone.
The check was made out to Lauren.
$50,000.
From Diane Walker.
Memo line: medical transition support.
I walked back into the kitchen and placed the phone in front of my mother.
“Explain.”
She read the check first.
Her face crumpled.
“I paid her for Ava’s expenses.”
“You paid her to take my sister’s baby.”
“No. I paid hospital bills. Clothes. Formula. I was overwhelmed.”
Dad looked at the screen.
Then at Mom.
“You gave Lauren fifty thousand dollars and never told me?”
Mom whispered, “I was afraid you’d stop me.”
Dad’s voice cracked.
“You’re damn right I would have.”
Ava began crying in her high chair.
The sound cut through the room like a rescue flare.
I picked her up.
Nobody else moved.
That afternoon, the courtroom was small, bright, and merciless.
Lauren appeared by video from the police station.
Her attorney argued that she had been Ava’s primary mother for eight months.
Rebecca stood with one hand on Hannah’s will.
“She has been a caretaker under false pretenses,” Rebecca said. “The child’s legal guardian, named by the birth mother, is Mr. Ethan Walker.”
Lauren cried on screen.
“I love Ava.”
I believed that she believed it.
That made everything worse.
The judge asked me one question.
“Mr. Walker, if granted temporary guardianship, what is your intention regarding this child?”
I looked at Ava sleeping in her carrier beside me.
“To raise her,” I said. “To protect her. To tell her the truth when she’s old enough. And to make sure nobody ever uses her again.”
The judge granted temporary guardianship.
Lauren screamed so loudly the court muted her microphone.
As we walked out, Rebecca touched my arm.
“Ethan. There’s more.”
I stopped.
She held up her phone.
“Forensics recovered Lauren’s deleted Brighton folder.”
My mouth went dry.
May you like
Rebecca’s voice lowered.
“It includes a video from the night Hannah died.”
