Chapter 3 - Three Calls Before Mine.
For several seconds, the only thing I could hear was the monitor beside Sophie’s bed.
Evan realized what he had done the moment the words left his mouth.
He tried to repair them.
“I mean, if there’s something in her system, obviously she got into something somewhere.”
“Somewhere?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“At home.”
“You just said there was nothing she could get into.”
“I said I didn’t give her anything.”
Nobody had accused him of giving her anything in that moment.
He kept answering questions that had not been asked.
Dr. Benton asked the nurse to stay with Sophie while we moved into the consultation room again.
Anna came with me.
Evan was told to remain in the hall.
He argued for less than a minute before hospital security appeared at the far end of the corridor.
That ended the discussion.
Inside the room, Dr. Benton explained that the initial screen suggested an antihistamine-type sedating medication.
She carefully emphasized that screening tests were not final proof and that confirmatory testing would be needed.
I barely heard the caution.
My mind had already flown back to our bathroom cabinet.
Evan bought nighttime allergy tablets every spring.
He kept them beside the shaving cream.
Or at least he used to.
“Could a toddler open the bottle?”
I asked.
“Many medications have child-resistant packaging, but child-resistant does not mean impossible.”
“We keep medicine high up.”
“Who has access?”
“Both of us.”
Anna sat beside me with her jaw clenched.
“Rachel, didn’t Evan move his allergy stuff to the kitchen last month?”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“When I watched Sophie.”
She spoke slowly, remembering.
“There was a bottle in the cabinet above the microwave.”
I saw the kitchen in my mind.
The cabinet was high enough that Sophie could not reach it from the floor.
A dining chair dragged beside the counter might bring her closer, but even then she would need to climb onto the counter.
The chair on its side suddenly felt like evidence rather than furniture.
“Could she have climbed?”
Anna asked.
“She climbs everything.”
The words were Evan’s.
I hated hearing them in my own voice.
Dr. Benton asked whether Sophie had ever opened medication before.
“No.”
“Had she been known to climb onto the counter?”
“Yes, but we stop her.”
“Was anyone supposed to be supervising her today?”
“Evan.”
The answer felt heavier each time I gave it.
Marisol asked whether I wanted law enforcement notified.
I looked at her, shocked.
“Do I have a choice?”
“The hospital has reporting obligations when there are concerns for a child’s safety.”
She said it kindly.
The word obligations made it clear that this had already moved beyond what I wanted.
“I understand.”
I did not understand.
I understood only that my daughter was asleep under hospital lights and my husband had lied about lunch.
A detective arrived forty minutes later.
His name was Daniel Cho.
He wore a plain dark suit, carried no dramatic expression, and spoke to me like someone trying not to add weight to a collapsing structure.
He asked me to tell the story from the beginning without guessing.
I did.
He stopped me only to clarify times.
Seven twelve, breakfast.
Seven twenty, I left.
Nine sixteen, daycare alert to Evan.
Nine eighteen, photo on the oven clock.
Eleven forty-three, photo sent to me.
Four oh seven, Evan called my office.
Four thirty-one, I arrived home.
Four forty-six, we left for the ER.
Detective Cho wrote each time in a small notebook.
“What exactly did your husband say when he called?”
I closed my eyes.
“She fell off a chair and went to sleep.”
“Did he say when she fell?”
“Not on the first call.”
“When did you first hear four o’clock?”
“At the hospital.”
He looked up.
That mattered.
I could see it.
“Did he call emergency services?”
“No.”
“Did he ask anyone else for medical advice?”
“He said no.”
“Do you believe him?”
I thought of Judith’s message.
“No.”
I told him what I had seen on Evan’s phone.
DON’T TELL THEM ABOUT...
Detective Cho asked whether I knew Judith’s number.
I gave it to him.
He asked whether Evan’s phone account was in his name or ours.
“Family plan.”
“Do you have access to the billing portal?”
“Yes.”
My hands began shaking again.
He did not tell me to calm down.
He waited.
I opened the carrier app.
Recent call details took several minutes to populate.
When they did, a list of numbers appeared.
Evan had called Judith at 12:26 p.m.
The call lasted eleven minutes.
He called her again at 2:02.
Seven minutes.
Again at 3:41.
Four minutes.
Then he called me at 4:07.
My stomach turned.
“He spoke to his mother three times before he called me.”
Detective Cho copied the times.
Anna whispered a curse under her breath.
I scrolled further.
There was another call at 11:58 to a number I did not recognize.
It lasted thirty-seven seconds.
At 12:04, the same number called back for six minutes.
“Who is that?”
Detective Cho asked.
“I don’t know.”
He had me read it aloud.
He did not call it immediately.
Instead, he asked whether our building had surveillance.
“Yes.”
“Can you authorize management to release it?”
“I’m on the lease.”
I emailed the property manager from the consultation room.
The manager replied that recordings could only be released under proper request but confirmed cameras covered the lobby, elevator vestibule, garage, and main hallway entrances.
Detective Cho said he would handle the request.
He then asked whether I had a smart doorbell.
“No.”
“A pet camera?”
“No.”
“A baby monitor?”
I remembered again.
“Yes, but we stopped using it.”
“Where is it?”
“Hall closet.”
“Does it record?”
“It used to upload motion clips.”
“Do you still have the app?”
I searched my phone.
The icon was still buried in a folder labeled Baby.
I tapped it.
The app asked me to sign in.
My password worked.
A screen appeared showing a device named SOPHIE ROOM - OFFLINE.
The last upload was four months ago.
My brief hope collapsed.
Detective Cho asked whether there were any other devices.
I shook my head.
Then Anna frowned.
“What about the camera Evan bought for the dog?”
“We don’t have a dog.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“Last Christmas.”
I remembered a small white indoor camera still in its box because Evan had said he wanted one for when we eventually got a puppy.
“Where is it?”
“In his office, maybe.”
Detective Cho made another note.
My phone rang.
The caller was Judith.
All four of us looked at the screen.
“Answer if you want,” the detective said.
I did.
“Rachel?”
Judith’s voice was breathless.
“Where is Evan?”
“At the hospital.”
“What is happening?”
“You tell me.”
Silence.
“What does that mean?”
“You spoke to him three times today before he called me.”
A long pause.
“He was worried.”
“About what?”
“Sophie wasn’t feeling well.”
My eyes closed.
Evan had told the hospital he called nobody before me.
Judith had just confirmed the opposite.
“When did he tell you she wasn’t feeling well?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You spoke at twelve twenty-six.”
“I talk to my son all the time.”
“What did he say?”
Judith sighed.
“Rachel, this is not helping.”
There it was.
The family phrase.
Any question that made Evan uncomfortable was not helping.
“What did he say?”
“He said she was sleepy.”
“At twelve twenty-six?”
“Maybe.”
“Did he tell you she fell?”
Another pause.
“I think so.”
Detective Cho met my eyes and shook his head slightly, telling me not to lead her.
I swallowed.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
Judith’s voice became firmer.
“He said Sophie had a little tumble and was resting.”
My hand went cold around the phone.
The fall had happened before twelve twenty-six.
Not at four.
I looked at the detective.
He was already writing.
“Did you tell him to call a doctor?”
“I told him children fall.”
Anna covered her mouth with one hand.
I struggled to keep my voice level.
“Did he say she was hard to wake?”
Judith did not answer.
“Judith?”
“You are making this sound sinister.”
“Did he say she was hard to wake?”
“He said she was sleeping.”
“Did he say he had given her anything?”
The line went silent.
I knew before she spoke.
“Rachel, I have to go.”
“Judith.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Detective Cho asked me to save the call details.
Then someone knocked.
Marisol opened the door.
“There’s an update.”
My heart stopped.
She quickly added, “Sophie is stable.”
I breathed again.
“But your husband is asking to leave.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“He says he needs to go home and get clothes.”
Detective Cho’s expression changed.
“Has he left the building?”
“Security asked him to wait.”
The detective was already moving toward the door.
I followed him into the hallway.
Evan stood by the elevators with his jacket zipped and his keys in his hand.
He saw me and smiled too casually.
“I was just going to grab Sophie’s bunny.”
Detective Cho stopped several feet away.
“Mr. Mercer, I’d like to speak with you before you go.”
Evan’s eyes shifted to the badge.
“Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then I’m free to leave.”
The detective did not argue.
“Yes.”
Evan pressed the elevator button.
I suddenly understood why he wanted to go home.
Not clothes.
Not Bunny.
The medicine bottle.
The camera.
Whatever else he thought we had not found yet.
I stepped forward.
“Evan, don’t go.”
He looked at me.
For one second, the mask vanished.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
The elevator doors opened.
Detective Cho’s phone rang.
He answered, listened, and raised one hand.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Evan hesitated.
The detective’s gaze sharpened.
“Building security just sent over the first lobby clip.”
The elevator waited behind Evan.
“At 11:32 this morning, you walked out of your building alone.”
Evan said nothing.
Detective Cho continued.
“You didn’t come back for almost two hours.”
My breath left me.
May you like
Sophie had been inside the apartment.
Alone.
