“Tell me she’s dead.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Please don’t say that.”
“Tell me she’s dead, Mom.”
“No,” she whispered.
I gripped the bed rail.
“She’s alive?”
Mom covered her face.
“I had to protect her.”
“And yourself,” I said.
Her eyes moved toward the doorway.
“From your father.”
I threw the Bible onto her blanket. The photograph slid out.
“Who is he?”
Mom stared at the boy.
“That’s your brother.”
“Dad has another kid?”
She nodded.
“Before you and Hannah.”
“And Hannah found out?”
“At the retreat.”
“So she didn’t disappear from the trail.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“Tell me what happened.”
Mom wiped away tears.
“Hannah saw him near the lodge. She thought he was you. Later, she overheard Dad and the elder arguing near the parking lot. He was the man who oversaw the church benevolence fund with him.”
“The elder knew?”
“Dad chaired the benevolence committee,” Mom whispered. “The elder approved vague emergency-aid requests. I signed the checks because I was treasurer.”
I held up the church envelope.
“This?”
Mom nodded.
“Why hide Hannah?”
“Because she wanted to tell you. She wanted to tell everyone.”
“Good.”
“Your father was already saying she was confused. Reckless. Too young to understand what she’d heard.”
“She was 16.”
I stepped backward.
“You remembered that for her.”
“Hayden, please.”
“You saved Hannah by letting me drown.”
Her face fell apart.
“I thought I was choosing the child in danger.”
“No,” I said. “You were scared she would expose you too.”
Mom didn’t deny it.
That hurt more than any confession.
“You had two children.”
Mom cried quietly.
“Every morning, I told myself I’d tell you. Every night, I looked at you and knew I’d stolen one more day.”
I raised the address.
“I found this.”
“She isn’t there anymore.”
“Then where?”
Mom didn’t answer.
So I turned to the deputy.
“I want to give a statement.”
Mom sat upright.
“No.”
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