"Yes, baby?"
"Why does Grandma's little house make crying sounds?"
I had laughed.
"What little house?"
"The one in the backyard."
"The shed?"
He nodded.
"Sometimes it makes sounds."
I had assumed he meant the wind.
Then he had whispered:
"Grandma says I'm not allowed to go there."
I remember smiling.
"Then you listen to Grandma."
Ethan had nodded.
But his expression had stayed serious.
Now I understood.
I pressed my hand against the ICU window.
And there he was.
My baby.
Surrounded by machines.
A bandage around his wrist.
Bruises visible beneath the hospital lighting.
His tiny chest rising beneath the blankets.
I placed my palm against the glass.
"Mommy's here."
He couldn't hear me.
Or maybe he could.
I didn't know.
Detective Carter stood behind me.
"Mrs.
Mitchell."
I turned.
"We need to ask you some questions."
"Not yet."
"Ma'am—"
"My son is six years old."
My voice shook.
"And somebody did this to him."
The detective nodded.
"We believe so."
My eyes filled with tears.
"Then find them."
"We will."
"No."
I looked directly at him.
"Don't just find them."
My voice became colder.
"Make sure they never get near my son again."
He studied my face.
Then he said quietly:
"We intend to."
My mother arrived at the hospital around nine.
Chloe came with her.
They walked down the corridor looking exactly like grieving relatives.
My mother was crying.
Chloe held her shoulder.
"Oh, Sarah," my mother whispered.
I stared at her.
She opened her arms.
I stepped backward.
She stopped.
"What?"
I couldn't speak.
She looked at me with wounded disbelief.
"I'm his grandmother."
I finally found my voice.
"Then why didn't you call 911?"
Her face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
"We were frightened."
"You had a phone."
"We didn't know how serious it was."
"Then why did you tell me he deserved it?"
Chloe suddenly stepped forward.
"You were emotional."
"I heard you."
"You misunderstood."
"I heard you."
My mother looked away.
Detective Carter appeared behind me.
"Mrs.
Mitchell."
My mother turned.
"Yes?"
"I need to speak with you and your daughter separately."
Her face tightened.
"Why?"
"Because we're investigating what happened to Ethan."
"We already told the police it was an accident."
I turned.
"Accident?"
My mother nodded.
"He fell."
"Where?"
"Near the shed."
"Doing what?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
My voice rose.
"Then why was the shed locked?"
She froze.
Chloe looked at her.
For the first time, I saw fear.
Real fear.
Detective Carter noticed it too.
"Mrs.
